f. 





E^TSJttAVED fOa J.F.TOOYE. S7 JTOENS SQUARE. 



THE 

WORKS 



OF THE 



RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD 



JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L. 

LATE 



LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, 



Ejus [Analogic] haec vis est, ut id quod dubium est ad aliquid simile, de quo non 
quaeritur, Teferat ; ut incerta certis probet. — Qutntil. 1. i. c. 6. 



TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR, 

By SAMUEL HALIFAX, D.D. 



LATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER. 




LONDON : 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. F. DOVE, 
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE. 

1828. 



LC Control Number 




tmp96 0315 



THE 



ANALOGY OF RELIGION, 

NATURAL AND REVEALED, 

TO THE 

CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 

TWO BRIEF DISSERTATIONS : 

I. ON PERSONAL IDENTITY. II. ON THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 
BY 

JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L. 

LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. 

Ejus [Analogiae] hsec vis est, ut id quod dubium est ad aliquid simile, de quo uou 
quseritur, referat; ut incerta certis probet. — Quintil. hi. c. 6. 

with 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR, 



By SAMUEL HALIFAX, D,D. 

LATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER. 




LONDON : 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. F. DOVE, 
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE. 

1828. 



TO 

THE REVEREND 

DR. THOMAS BALGUY, 

ARCHDEACON AND PREBENDARY OF WINCHESTER, &c. 



DEAR SIR, 

I trust you will excuse the liberty I have taken of prefixing 
your Name to the following sheets ; the latter part of which, 
I am confident, will not be thought undeserving of your ap- 
probation ; and of the former part you will commend the 
intention at least, if not the execution. In vindicating the 
character of Bishop Butler from the aspersions thrown upon 
it since his death, I have but discharged a common duty of 
humanity, which survivors owe to those who have deserved 
well of mankind by their lives or writings, when they are 
past the power of appearing in their own defence. And if 
what I have added, by way of opening the general design of 
the Works of this great Prelate, be of use in exciting the 
younger class of Students in our Universities to read, and so 
to read as to understand, the Two Volumes prepared and 
published by the Author himself ; I flatter myself I shall 
have done no inconsiderable service to Morality and Reli- 
gion. Your time and studies have been long successfully 
devoted to the support of the same great cause : and in 
what you have lately given to the world, both as an Author 
and an Editor, you have largely contributed to the defence 
of our common Christianity, and of what was esteemed by 
One, who was perfectly competent to judge, its best Esta- 
blishment, the Church of England. In the present publica- 
tion I consider myself as a fellow-labourer with you in the 
same design, and tracing the path you have trod before, 
but at great distance, and with unequal paces. When, by 
His Majesty's goodness, I was raised to that station of emi- 



[ vi ] 

nence in the Church, to which you had been first named, 
and which, on account of the infirmity of your health, you 
had desired to decline ; it was honour enough for me on 
such an occasion to have been thought of next to you : and 
I know of no better rule by which to govern my conduct, 
so as not to discredit the Royal Hand which conferred on 
me so signal and unmerited a favour, than in cases of diffi- 
culty to put the question to myself, How you would proba- 
bly have acted in the same situation. You see, Sir, I still 
look up to you, as I have been wont, both as my Superior 
and my Example. That I may long reap the benefit of 
your advice and friendship ; and that such a measure of 
health and strength may be continued to you, as may enable 
you to pass the evening of your days with comfort, and 
enjoy the blessings of the life you love ; is the cordial wish of, 
Dear Sir, 

Your very affectionate 

and faithful Servant, 

S. GLOUCESTER. 

Dartmouth Street, Westminster, 
12th May, 1786. 



PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. 



** When I consider how light a matter very often subjects the best esta- 
blished characters to the suspicions of posterity, posterity often as malig- 
nant to virtue as the age that saw it was envious of its glory; and how 
ready a remote age is to catch at a low revived slander, which the times 
that brought it forth saw despised and forgotten almost in its birth; I 
cannot but think it a matter that deserves attention." — Letter to the 
Editor of the Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism, &c. by Bishop War- 
burton. See his Works, vol. vii. p. 547, 

The Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham was 
printed and published in the year 1751, by the learned Pre- 
late whose name it bears; and, together with the Sermons 
and Analogy of the same writer, both too well known to need 
a more particular description, completes the collection of his 
Works. It has long been considered as a matter of curiosity, 
on account of its scarceness; and it is equally curious on 
other accounts — its subject, and the calumny to which it 
gave occasion, of representing the Author as addicted to super- 
stition, as inclined to Popery, and as dying in the communion 
of the Church of Rome, The improved edition of the Bio- 
graphia Britannica, published under the care of Dr. Kippis, 
having unavoidably brought this calumny again into notice, 
it may not be unseasonable to offer a few reflections in 
this place, by way of obviating any impressions that may 
hence arise to the disadvantage of so great a character as that 
of the late Bishop Butler ; referring those, who desire a more 
particular account of his life, to the third volume of the same 
entertaining work, printed in 1784. art. Butler (Joseph).* 
I. The principal design of the Bishop in his Charge is, to 
exhort his Clergy to " do their part towards reviving a prac- 
tical sense of religion amongst the people committed to their 
care;" and, as one way of effecting this, to "instruct them 
in the Importance of External Religion? or the usefulness 
of outward observances in promoting inward piety. Now, 
from the compound nature of man, consisting of two parts, 
the body and the mind, together with the influence which 

* The account here alluded to is subjoined to this Preface. 



viii 



PREFACE 



these are found to have on one another, it follows, that the 
religious regards of such a creature ought to be so framed, 
as to be in some way properly accommodated to both. A 
religion which is purely spiritual, stripped of every thing 
that may affect the senses, and considered only as a divine 
philosophy of the mind, if it do not mount up into enthusiasm, 
as has frequently been the case, often sinks, after a few short 
fervors, into indifference : an abstracted invisible object, like 
that which natural religion offers, ceases to move or interest 
the heart ; and something further is wanting to bring it nearer, 
and render it more present to our view, than merely an intel- 
lectual contemplation. On the other hand, when, in order 
to remedy this inconvenience, recourse is had to instituted 
forms and ritual injunctions, there is always danger lest men 
be tempted to rest entirely on these, and persuade themselves 
that a painful attention to such observances will atone for the 
want of genuine piety and virtue. Yet surely there is a way of 
steering safely between these two extremes ; of so consulting 
both the parts of our constitution, that the body and tbe mind 
may concur in rendering our religious services acceptable to 
God, and at the same time useful to ourselves. And what 
way can this be, but precisely that which is recommended in 
the Charge ; such a cultivation of outward as well as inward 
religion, that from both may result, what is the point chiefly 
to be laboured, and at all events to be secured, a corre 
spondent temper and behaviour ; or, in other words, such an 
application of the forms of godliness, as may be subservient 
in promoting the power and spirit of it ? No man, who be- 
lieves the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and 
understands what he believes, but must know, that external 
religion is as much enjoined, and constitutes as real a part o 
revelation, as that which is internal. The many ceremonies 
in use among the Jews, in consequence of a divine com- 
mand ; the baptism of water, as an emblem of moral purity ; 
the eating and drinking of bread and wine, as symbols and 
representations of the body and blood of Christy required of 
Christians, are proofs of this. On comparing these two parts 
of religion together, one, it is immediately seen, is of much 
greater importance than the other ; and, whenever they hap- 
pen to interfere, is always to be preferred : but does it follow 
from hence, that therefore that other is of little or no impor- 
tance, and, in cases where there is no competition, may en- 
tirely be neglected ? Or rather is not the legitimate conclu- 



BY THE EDITOR. 



ix 



sion directly the reverse, that nothing is to be looked upon 
as of little importance, which is of any use at all in preserv- 
ing upon our minds a sense of the Divine authority, which 
recalls to our remembrance the obligations we are under, 
and helps to keep us, as the Scripture expresses it, " in the 
fear of the Lord all the day long ?"* If, to adopt the instance 
mentioned in the Charge, the sight of a church should re- 
mind a man of some sentiment of piety ; if, from the view of 
a material building dedicated to the service of God, he should 
be led to regard himself, his own body, as a living " temple 
of the Holy Ghost, "f and therefore no more than the other 
to be profaned or desecrated by any thing that defileth or is 
impure ; could it be truly said of such a one, that he was 
superstitious, or mistook the means of religion for the end ? 
If, to use another, and what has been thought a more ob- 
noxious instance, taken from the Bishop's practice, a cross, 
erected in a place of public worship, J should cause us to re- 
flect on Him who died on a cross for our salvation, and on 
the necessity of our " own dying to sin/'§ and of " crucifying 
the flesh with its affections and lusts ;"|| would any worse 
consequences follow from such sentiments so excited, than 
if the same sentiments had been excited by the view of a 
picture, of the crucifixion suppose, such as is commonly placed, 
and with this very design, in foreign churches, and indeed 
in many of our own? Both the instances here adduced, it is 
very possible, may be far from being approved, even by those 
who are under the most sincere convictions of the impor- 
tance of true religion : and it is easy to conceive how open 
to scorn and censure they must be from others, who think they 
have a talent for ridicule, and have accustomed themselves 
to regard all pretensions to piety as hypocritical or super- 
stitious. But " Wisdom is justified of her children."^" Re- 
ligion is what it is, " whether men will hear, or whether they 
will forbear ;" m and whatever in the smallest degree pro- 

* Prov. xxiii. 17. f 1 Cor. vi. 19. 

I Dr. Butler, when Bishop of Bristol, put up a cross, a plain piece of 
marble inlaid, in the chapel of his episcopal house. This, which was in- 
tended by. the blameless Prelate merely as a sign or memorial, that true 
Christians are to bear their cross, and not to be ashamed of following a 
crucified Master, was considered as affording a presumption that he was 
secretly inclined to Popish forms and ceremonies, and had no great dislike 
to Popery itself. And, on account of the offence it occasioned, both at 
the time and since, it were to be wished, in prudence, it had not been done, 

§ Rom.vi. 11. jj Gal, v. 24. «J Matt. xi. 19. ** Ezek. ii. 5. 



PREFACE 



motes its interests, and assists us in performing its commands, 
whether that assistance be derived from the medium of the 
body or the mind, ought to be esteemed of great weight, and 
deserving of our most serious attention. 

However, be the danger of superstition what it may, no one 
was more sensible of that danger, or more in earnest in main- 
taining, that external acts of themselves are nothing, and that 
moral holiness, as distinguished from bodily observances of 
every kind, is that which constitutes the essence of religion, 
than Bishop Butler. Not only the Charge itself, the whole 
intention of which is plainly nothing more than to enforce 
the necessity of practical religion, the reality as well as form, 
is a demonstration of this, but many passages besides to the 
same purpose, selected from his other writings. Take the 
two following as specimens. In his Analogy he observes 
thus : " Though mankind have, in all ages, been greatly 
prone to place their religion in peculiar positive rites, by way 
of equivalent for obedience to moral precepts ; yet, without 
making any comparison at all between them, and conse- 
quently without determining which is to have the preference, 
the nature of the thing abundantly shews all notions of that 
kind to be utterly subversive of true religion : as they are, 
moreover, contrary to the whole general tenor of Scripture ; 
and likewise to the most express particular declarations of it, 
that nothing can render us accepted of God, without moral 
virtue."* And to the same purpose in his Sermon, preached 
before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, in Fe- 
bruary, 1738-9. " Indeed, amongst creatures naturally 
formed for religion, yet so much under the power of imagi- 
nation as men are, superstition is an evil, which can never 
be out of sight. But even against this, true religion is a 
great security, and the only one. True religion takes up 
that place in the mind, which superstition would usurp, and 
so leaves little room for it ; and likewise lays us under the 
strongest obligations to oppose it. On the contrary, the 
danger of superstition cannot but be increased by the preva- 
lence of irreligion ; and, by its general prevalence, the evil 
will be unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a 
religion, will of course take up with almost any superstition 
which is thrown in their way : and in process of time, amidst 
the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the leaders of 
parties will certainly be able to serve themselves of that su- 
* Analogy, Part II. Chap. i. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xi 



perstition, whatever it be, which is getting ground ; and will 
not fail to carry it to the utmost length their occasions re- 
quire. The general nature of the thing shews this ; and his- 
tory and fact confirm it. It is therefore wonderful, those 
people who seem to think there is but one evil in life, that 
of superstition, should not see that atheism and profaneness 
must be the introduction of it."* 

He who can think and write in such a manner, can never 
be said to mistake the nature of real religion : and he, who, 
after such proofs to the contrary, can persist in asserting of 
so discreet and learned a person, that he was addicted to su- 
perstition, must himself be much a stranger both to truth and 
charity. 

And here it may be worth our while to observe, that the 
same excellent Prelate, who by one set of men was suspected 
of superstition, on account of his Charge, has by another been 
represented as leaning to the opposite extreme of enthusiasm, 
on account of his two discourses On the Love of God. But 
both opinions are equally without foundation. He was nei- 
ther superstitious, nor an enthusiast: his mind was much 
too strong, and his habits of thinking and reasoning much 
too strict and severe, to suffer him to descend to the weak- 
nesses of either character. His piety was at once fervent 
and rational. When impressed with a generous concern for 
the declining cause of religion, he laboured to revive its dying 
interests; nothing he judged would be more effectual to that 
end, among creatures so much engaged with bodily things, 
and so apt to be affected with whatever strongly solicits the 
senses, as men are, than a religion of such a frame as should 
in its exercise require the joint exertions of the body and the 
mind. On the other hand, when penetrated with the dignity 
and importance of " the first and great commandment/'^ love 
to God, he set himself to inquire, what those movements of 
the heart are, which are due to Him, the Author and Cause 
of all things ; he found, in the coolest way of consideration, 
that God is the natural object of the same affections of grati- 
tude, reverence, fear, desire of approbation, trust, and de- 
pendence, the same affections in kind, though doubtless in a 
very disproportionate degree, which any one would feel from 
contemplating a perfect character in a creature, in which 
goodness, with wisdom and power, are supposed to be the 
predominant qualities, with the further circumstance, that 
, * Serm. xvi, f Matt, xxih 38. 



Ml 



PREFACE 



this creature was also his governor and friend. This sub- 
ject is manifestly a real one ; there is nothing in it fanciful 
or unreasonable : this way of being affected towards God is 
piety, in the strictest sense : this is religion, considered as a 
habit of mind ; a religion, suited to the nature and condition 
of man* 

II. From superstition to Popery the transition is easy: no 
wonder then, that, in the progress of detraction, the simple 
imputation of the former of these, with which the attack on 
the character of our Author was opened, should be followed 
by the more aggravated imputation of the latter. Nothing, 
I think, can fairly be gathered in support of such a sugges- 
tion from the Charge, in which Popery is barely mentioned, 
and occasionally only, and in a sentence or two ; yet even 
there, it should be remarked, the Bishop takes care to de- 
scribe the peculiar observances required by it, " some as in 
themselves wrong and superstitious, and others of them as 
being made subservient to the purposes of superstition." 
With respect to his other writings, any one at all conversant 
with them needs not to be told, that the matters treated of 
both in his Sermons and his Analogy did none of them di- 
rectly lead him to consider, and much less to combat, the 
opinions, whether relating to faith or worship, which are 
peculiar to the Church of Rome : it might therefore have 
happened, yet without any just conclusion arising from 
thence, of being himself inclined to favour those opinions, 
that he had never mentioned, so much as incidentally, the 
subject of Popery at all. But fortunately for the reputation 
of the Bishop, and to the eternal disgrace of his calumniators, 
even this poor resource is wanting to support their malevo- 
lence. In his Sermon at St. Bride's before the Lord Mayor 
in 1740, after having said that " our laws and whole consti- 
tution go more upon supposition of an equality amongst man- 
kind, than the constitution and laws of other countries;" he 
goes on to observe, that " this plainly requires, that more par- 
ticular regard should be had to the education of the lower 

* Many of the sentiments, in these Two Discourses of Bishop Butler, 
concerning the sovereign good of man; the impossibility of procuring it 
in the present life; the unsatisfactoriness of earthly enjoyments; together 
with the somewhat beyond and above them all, which once attained, there 
will rest nothing further to be wished or hoped ; and which is then only 
to be expected, when we shall have put off this mortal body, and our 
union w ith God shall be complete ; occur in Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 
Book E. \. 11. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xiii 



people here, than in places where they are born slaves of 
power, and to be made slaves of superstition:"* meaning evi- 
dently in this place, by the general term superstition, the 
particular errors of the Romanists. This is something : but 
we have a still plainer indication what his sentiments con- 
cerning Popery really were, from another of his additional 
Sermons, I mean that before the House of Lords on June the 
11th, 1747, the anniversary of his late Majesty's accession. 
The passage alluded to is as follows ; and my readers will 
not be displeased that I give it them at length. " The value 
of our religious Establishment ought to be very much 
heightened in our esteem, by considering what it is a secu- 
rity from ; I mean that great corruption of Christianity, 
Popery, which is ever hard at work to bring us again under 
its yoke. Whoever will consider the Popish claims, to the 
disposal of the whole earth, as of divine right, to dispense 
with the most sacred engagements, the claims to supreme 
absolute authority in religion ; in short, the general claims 
which the Canonists express by the words, plenitude of power 
— whoever, I say, will consider Popery as it is professed at 
Rome, may see, that it is manifest, open usurpation of all 
human and divine authority. But even in those Roman 
Catholic countries where these monstrous claims are not 
admitted, and the civil power does, in many respects, restrain 
the papal; yet persecution is professed, as it is absolutely 
enjoined by what is acknowledged to be their highest autho- 
rity, a general council, so called, with the Pope at the head 
of it ; ^and is practised in all of them, I think without excep- 
tion, where it can be done safely. Thus they go on to sub- 
stitute force instead of argument; and external profession 
made by force, instead of reasonable conviction. And thus 
corruptions of the grossest sort have been in vogue, for many 
generations, in many parts of Christendom; and are so still, 
even where Popery obtains in its least absurd form : and 
their antiquity and wide extent are insisted upon as proofs 
of their truth ; a kind of proof, which at best can only be 
presumptive, but which loses all its little weight, in propor- 
tion as the long and large prevalence of such corruptions 
have beeix obtained by force. "f In another part of the same 
Sermon, where he is again speaking of our ecclesiastical con- 
stitution, he reminds his audience that it is to be valued, 
" not because it leaves us at liberty to have as little religion 
* Serm. xvii. f Serm. xx. 



xiv 



PREFACE 



as we please, without being accountable to human judicato- 
ries ; but because it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon 
our consciences, genuine Christianity, free from the super- 
stitions with which it is defiled in other countries ;" which 
superstitions, he observes, " naturally tend to abate its force." 
The date of this Sermon should here be attended to. It was 
preached in June, 1747; that is, four years before the de- 
livery and publication of the Charge, which was in the year 
1751 ; and exactly five years before the Author died, which 
was in June, 1752. We have then, in the passages now 
laid before the reader, a clear and unequivocal proof, brought 
down to within a few years of Bishop Butler's death, that 
Popery was held by him in the utmost abhorrence, and that 
he regarded it in no other light, than as the great corruption 
of Christianity i and a manifest, open usurpation of all human 
and divine authority. The argument is decisive; nor will 
any thing be of force to invalidate it, unless from some after- 
act during the short remainder of the Bishop's life, besides 
that of delivering and printing his Charge (which, after 
what I have said here, and in the Notes added to this Preface 
and to the Charge, I must have leave to consider as afford ins: 
no evidence at all of his inclination to Papistical doctrines or 
ceremonies), the contrary shall incontrovertibly appear. 

III. One such after-act however has been alleged, which 
would effectually demolish all that we have urged in behalf 
of our Prelate, were it true, as is pretended, that he died in 
the communion of the Church of Rome. Had a story of this 
sort been invented and propagated by Papists, the wonder 
might have been less : 

Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridce. 

But to the reproach of Protestantism, the fabrication of this 
calumny, for such we shall find it, originated from among 
ourselves. It is pretty remarkable, that a circumstance so 
extraordinary should never have been divulged till the year 
1707, fifteen years after the Bishop's decease. At that time 
Dr. Thomas Seeker was Archbishop of Canterbury ; who of 
all others was the most likely to know the truth or falsehood 
of the fact asserted, having been educated with our Author 
in his early youth, and having lived in a constant habit of 
intimacy with him to the very time of his death. The good 
Archbishop was not silent on this occasion: with a virtuous 
indignation he stood forth to protect the posthumous cha- 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xv 



racter of his friend ; and in a public newspaper, under the 
signature of Misopseudes, called upon his accuser to support 
what he had advanced, by whatever proofs he could. No 
proof, however, nor any thing like a proof, appeared in reply ; 
and every man of sense and candour at that time was per- 
fectly convinced the assertion was entirely groundless.* As 

* When the first edition of this Preface was published, I had in vain en- 
deavoured to procure a sight of the papers, in which Bishop Butler was 
accused of having died a Papist, and Archbishop Seeker's replies to them ; 
though I well remembered to have read both, when they first appeared in 
the public prints. But a learned Professor in the University of Oxford 
has furnished me with the whole controversy in its original form ; a brief 
history of which it may not be unacceptable to offer here to the curious 
reader. 

The attack was opened in the year 1767, in an anonymous pamphlet, 
entitled, " The Root of Protestant Errors examined;" in which the author 
asserted, that, " by an anecdote lately given him, that same Prelate" (who 
at the bottom of the page is called B — p of D — m) " is said to have died in 
the communion of a Church, that makes much use of saints, saints' days, 
and all the trumpery of saint worship." When this remarkable fact, now 
first divulged, came to be generally known, it occasioned, as might be ex- 
pected, no little alarm; and intelligence of it was no sooner conveyed to 
Archbishop Seeker, than in a short letter, signed Misopseudes, and printed 
in the St. James's Chronicle of May 9, he called upon the writer to pro- 
duce his authority for publishing " so gross and scandalous a falsehood." 
To this challenge an immediate answer was returned by the author of the 
pamphlet, who, now assuming the name of Phileleutheros, informed Miso- 
pseudes, through the channel of the same paper, that "such anecdote had 
been given him ; and that he was yet of opinion that there was nothing 
improbable in it, when it is considered that the same Prelate put up the 
Popish insignia of the cross in his chapel, when at Bristol ; and in his last 
Episcopal Charge has squinted very much towards that superstition." 
Here we find the accusation not only repeated, but supported by reasons, 
such as they are, of which it seemed necessary that some notice should be 
taken : nor did the Archbishop conceive it unbecoming his own dignity to 
stand up on this occasion, as the vindicator of innocence against the ca- 
lumniator of the helpless dead. Accordingly, in a second letter in the 
same newspaper of May 23, and subscribed Misopseudes as before ; after 
reciting from Bishop Butler's Sermon before the Lords the very passage 
here printed in the Preface, and observing, that " there are, in the same 
Sermon, declarations as strong as can be made against temporal punish- 
ments for heresy, schism, or even for idolatry;" his Grace expresses him- 
self thus : Now he (Bishop Butler) was universally esteemed, through- 
out his life, a man of strict piety and honesty, as well as uncommon abi- 
lities. He gave all the proofs, public and private, which his station led 
him to give, and they were decisive and daily, of his continuing to the last 
a sincere member of the Church of England. Nor had ever any of his 
acquaintance, or most intimate friends, nor have they to this day, the 
least doubt of it." As to putting up a cross in his chapel, the Archbishop 
frankly owns, that for himself he wishes he had not; and thinks that in 
so doing the Bishop did amiss. But then he asks, " Can that be opposed, 



xvi 



PREFACE 



a further confirmation of the rectitude of this judgment, it 
may not be amiss to mention, there is yet in existence a 
strong presumptive argument at least in its favour, drawn 

as any proof of Popery, to all the evidence on the other side ; or even to 
the single evidence of the above-mentioned Sermon? Most of our churches 
have crosses upon them : are they therefore Popish churches ? The Lu- 
therans have more than crosses in theirs : are the Lutherans therefore 
Papists V And as to the Charge, no Papist, his Grace remarks, would 
have spoken as Bishop Butler there does, of the observances peculiar to 
Roman Catholics, some of which he expressly censures as wrong and 
superstitious, and others, as made subservient to the purposes of super- 
stition, and, on these accounts, abolished at the Reformation. After the 
publication of this letter Phileleutkeros replied in a short defence of his 
own conduct, but without producing any thing new in confirmation of what 
he had advanced. And here the controversy, so far as the two principals 
were concerned, seems to have ended. 

But the dispute was not suffered to die away quite so soon. For in the 
same year, and in the same newspaper of July 21, another letter appeared; 
in which the author not only contended that the cross in the Episcopal 
chapel at Bristol, and the Charge to the Clergy of Durham in 1751, 
amount to full proof of a strong attachment to the idolatrous communion 
of the Church of Rome, but, with the reader's leave, he would fain account 
for the Bishop's " tendency this way." And this he attempted to do, " from 
the natural melancholy and gloominess of Dr. Butler's disposition ; from 
his great fondness for the lives of Romish saints, and their books of mystic 
piety ; from his drawing his notions of teaching men religion, not from 
the New Testament, but from philosophical and political opinions of his 
own ; and above all, from his transition from a strict Dissenter amongst 
the Presbyterians to a rigid Churchman, and his sudden and unexpected 
elevation to great wealth and dignity in the Church." The attack, thus 
renewed, excited the Archbishop's attention a second time, and drew from 
him a fresh answer, subscribed also Misopseudes, in the St. James's Chro- 
nicle of August 4. In this letter, our excellent Metropolitan, first of all 
obliquely hinting at the unfairness of sitting in judgment on the character 
of a man who had been dead fifteen years ; and then reminding his cor- 
respondent, that " full proof had been already published, that Bishop 
Butler abhorred Popery as. a vile corruption of Christianity, and that it 
might be proved, if needful, that he held the Pope to be Antichrist ;" (to 
which decisive testimonies of undoubted aversion from the Romish Church, 
another is also added in the Postscript, his taking, when promoted to the 
see of Durham, for his domestic Chaplain, Dr. Nath. Forster, who had 
published, not four years before, a Sermon, entitled, Popery destructive 
of the Evidence of Christianity;) proceeds to observe, " that the natural 
melancholy of the Bishop's temper would rather have fixed him amongst 
his first friends, than prompted him to the change he made : that he read 
books of all sorts, as well as books of mystic piety, and knew how to pick 
the good that was in them out of the bad : that his opinions were exposed 
without reserve in his Analogy and his Sermons, and if the doctrine of 
either be Popish or unscriptural, the learned world hath mistaken strangely 
in admiring both : that, instead of being a strict Dissenter, he never was 
a communicant in any Dissenting assembly; on the contrary, that he went 
occasionally, from his early years, to the established worship, and became 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xvi 



from the testimony of those who attended our Author in the 
sickness of which he died. The last days of this excellent 
Prelate were passed at Bath ; Dr. Nathanael Forster, his chap- 
lain, being continually with him ; and for one da}^ and at 
the very end of his illness, Dr. Martin Benson also, the then 
Bishop of Gloucester, who shortened his own life in his pious 
haste to visit his dying friend. Both these persons constantly 

a constant conformist to it when he was barely of age, and entered him- 
self, in 1714, of Oriel College: that his elevation to great dignity in the 
Church, far from being sudden and unexpected, was a gradual and na- 
tural rise, through a variety of preferments, and a period of thirty-two 
years: that, as Bishop of Durham, he had very little authority beyond 
his brethren, and, in ecclesiastical matters, had none beyond them ; a 
larger income than most of them he had ; but this he employed, not, as 
was insinuated, in augmenting the pomp of worship in his cathedral, where 
indeed it is no greater than in others, but for the purposes of charity, and 
in the repairing of his houses." After these remarks, the letter closes 
with the following words : " Upon the whole, few accusations, so entirely 
groundless, have been so pertinaciously, I am unwilling to say maliciously, 
carried on, as the present : and surely it is high time for the authors and 
abettors of it, in mere common prudence, to shew some regard, if not to 
truth, at least to shame." 

It only remains to be mentioned, that the above letters of Archbishop 
Seeker had such an effect on a writer, who signed himself in the St. James's 
Chronicle of August 25, A Dissenting Minister, that he declared it as his 
opinion, that " the author of the pamphlet, called, ' The Root of Protestant 
Errors examined,' and his friends, were obliged in candour, injustice, and 
in honour, to retract their charge, unless they could establish it on much 
better grounds than had hitherto appeared :" and he expressed his " hopes, 
that it would be understood that the Dissenters in general had no hand 
in the accusation, and that it had only been the act of two or three mis- 
taken men." Another person also, " a foreigner by birth," as he says of 
himself, who had been long an admirer of Bishop Butler, and had perused 
with great attention all that had been written on both sides in the present 
controversy, confesses he had been " wonderfully pleased with observing, 
with what candour and temper, as well as clearness and solidity, he was 
vindicated from the aspersions laid against him." All the adversaries of 
our Prelate, however, had not the virtue or sense to be thus convinced ; 
some of whom still continued, under the signatures of Old Martin, Latimer, 
An Impartial Protestant, Paulinus, Misonothos, to repeat their confuted 
falsehoods in the public prints ; as if the curse of calumniators had fallen 
upon them, and their memory, by being long a traitor to truth, had taken- 
at last a severe revenge, and compelled them to credit their own lie. The 
first of these gentlemen, Old Martin, who dates from Newcastle, May 29, 
from the rancour and malignity with which his letter abounds, and from 
the particular virulence he discovers towards the characters of Bishop 
Butler and his defender, I conjecture to be no other than the very person 
who had already figured in this dispute, so early as the year 1752; of 
whose work, entitled, " A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of 
External Religion," the reader will find some account in the notes sub- 
joined to the Bishop's Charge in the volume of Sermons. 

B 



xviii 



PREFACE 



wrote letters to Dr. Seeker, then Bishop of Oxford, containing 
accounts of Bishop Butler's declining health, and of the 
symptoms and progress of his disorder, which, as was con- 
jectured, soon terminated in his death. These letters, which 
are still preserved in the Lambeth library,* I have read ; and 
not the slenderest argument can be collected from them, in 
justification of the ridiculous slander we are here considering. 
If at that awful season the Bishop was not known to have 
expressed any opinion tending to shew his dislike to Popery, 
neither was he known to have said any thing, that could at 
all be construed in approbation of it : and the natural pre- 
sumption is that whatever sentiments he had formerly enter- 
tained concerning that corrupt system of religion, he con- 
tinued to entertain them to the last. The truth is, neither 
the word nor the idea of Popery seems once to have occurred 
either to the Bishop himself, or to those who watched his 
parting moments : their thoughts were otherwise engaged. 
His disorder had reduced him to such debility, as to render 
him incapable of speaking much or long on any subject : the 
few bright intervals that occurred were passed in a state of 
the utmost tranquillity and composure ; and in that compo- 
sure he expired. " Mark the perfect man, and behold the 
upright : for the end of that man is peace."f " Let me die 
the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !"£ 
Out of pure respect for the virtues of a man, whom I had 
never the happiness of knowing, or even of seeing, but from 
whose writings I have received the greatest benefit and 
illumination, and which I have reason to be thankful to 
Providence for having early thrown in my way, I have ad- 
ventured, in what I have now offered to the public, to step 
forth in his defence, and to vindicate his honest fame from 
the attacks of those, who, with the vain hope of bringing 
down superior characters to their own level, are for ever at 
work in detracting from their just praise. For the literary 
reputation of Bishop Butler, it stands too high in the opinion 
of the world, to incur the danger of any diminution : but 
this in truth is the least of his excellences. He was more 

* The letters, with a sight of which I was indulged by the favour of our 
present most worthy Metropolitan, are all, as I remember, wrapped toge- 
ther under one cover; on the back of which is written, in Archbishop 
Seeker's own hand the following words, or words to this effect: "Pre- 
sumptive Arguments that Bishop Butler did not die a Papist." 

t Psalm xxxvii. 37. j Numb, xxiii. 10. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xix 



than a good writer, he was a good man ; and what is an 
addition even to this eulogy, he was a sincere Christian. 
His whole study was directed to the knowledge and practice 
of sound morality and true religion : these he adorned by 
his life, and has recommended to future ages in his writings ; 
in which, if my judgment be of any avail, he has done essen- 
tial service to both, as much, perhaps, as any single person, 
since the extraordinary gifts of " the word of wisdom and 
the word of knowledge"* have been withdrawn. 

In what follows I propose to give a short account of the 
Bishop's moral and religious systems, as these are collected 
from his Works. 

I. His way of treating the subject of morals is to be ga- 
thered from the volume of his Sermons, and particularly 
from the three first, and from the preface to that volume. 

" There is," as our Author with singular sagacity has 
observed, 66 a much more exact correspondence between the 
natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of."f 
The inward frame of man answers to his outward condition; 
the several propensities, passions, and affections, implanted 
in our hearts by the Author of nature, are in a peculiar man- 
ner adapted to the circumstances of life in which he hath 
placed us. This general observation, properly pursued, leads 
to several important conclusions. The original internal con- 
stitution o v f man, compared with his external condition, en- 
ables us to discern what course of action and behaviour that 
constitution leads to, what is our duty respecting that con- 
dition, and furnishes us besides with the most powerful ar- 
guments to the practice of it. 

What the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a 
question of fact ; to be determined, as other facts are, from 
experience, from our internal feelings and external senses, 
and from the testimony of others. Whether human nature, 
and the circumstances in which it is placed, might not have 
been ordered otherwise, is foreign to our inquiry, and none 
of our concern : our province is, taking both of these as they 
are, and viewing the connexion between them, from that 
connexion to discover, if we can, what course of action is 
fitted to that nature and those circumstances. From contem- 
plating the bodily senses, and the organs or instruments 
adapted to them, we learn that the eye was given to see 
* 1 Cor. xii. 8. f Serm. vi. 

b2 



3t 



PREFACE 



with, the ear to hear with. In like manner, from consi- 
dering our inward perceptions and the final causes of them, 
we collect that the feeling of shame, for instance, was given 
to prevent the doing of things shameful ; compassion, to 
carry us to relieve others in distress ; anger, to resist sudden 
violence offered to ourselves. If, continuing our inquiries in 
this way, it should at length appear, that the nature, the 
whole nature, of man leads him to and is fitted for that par- 
ticular course of behaviour which we usually distinguish by 
the name of virtue, we are authorized to conclude, that virtue 
is the law we are born under, that it was so intended by the 
Author of our being ; and we are bound by the most intimate 
of all obligations, a regard to our own highest interest and 
happiness, to conform to it in all situations and events. 

Human nature is not simple and uniform, but made up of 
several parts ; and we can have no just idea of it as a system 
or constitution, unless we take into our view the respects and 
relations which these parts have to each other. As the body 
is not one member, but many ; so our inward structure con- 
sists of various instincts, appetites, and propensions. Thus 
far there is no difference between human creatures and 
brutes. But besides these common passions and affections, 
there is another principle, peculiar to mankind, that of con- 
science, moral sense, reflection, call it what you please, by 
which they are enabled to review their whole conduct, to 
approve of some actions in themselves, and to disapprove of 
others. That this principle will of course have some influence 
on our behaviour, at least at times, will hardly be disputed : 
but the particular influence which it ought to have, the pre- 
cise degree of power in the regulating of our internal frame 
that is assigned it by Him who placed it there, is a point of 
the utmost consequence in itself, and on the determination 
of which the very hinge of our Author's Moral System turns. 
If the faculty here spoken of be, indeed, what it is asserted 
to be, in nature and kind superior to every other passion and 
affection ; if it be given, not merely that it may exert its 
force occasionally, or as our present humour or fancy may 
dispose us, but that it may at all times exercise an uncontrol- 
lable authority and government over all the rest ; it will then 
follow, that, in order to complete the idea of human nature, 
as a system, we must not only take in each particular bias, 
propension, instinct, which are seen to belong to it, but we 
must add besides the principle of conscience, together with 



BY THE EDITOR. 



the subjection that is due to it from all the other appetites 
and passions ; just as the idea of a civil constitution is 
formed, not barely from enumerating the several members 
and ranks of which it is composed, but from these consi- 
dered as acting in various degrees of subordination, to each 
other, and all under the direction of the same supreme autho- 
rity, whether that authority be vested in one person or more. 

The view here given of the internal constitution of man, 
and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeably to the con- 
ceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend the force 
of that expression, common to him and the ancient moralists, 
that virtue consists in following nature. The meaning cannot 
be, that it consists in acting agreeably to that propensity of 
our nature which happens to be the strongest; or which 
propels us towards certain objects, without any regard to the 
methods by which they are to be obtained : but the meaning- 
must be, that virtue consists in the due regulation and sub- 
jection of all the other appetites and affections to the superior 
faculty of conscience ; from a conformity to which alone our 
actions are properly natural, or correspondent to the nature, 
to the whole nature, of such an agent as man. From hence 
too it appears, that the author of our .frame is by no means 
indifferent to virtue and vice, or has left us at liberty to act 
at random, as humour or appetite may prompt us ; but that 
every man has the rule of right within him ; a rule attended 
in the very notion of it with authority, and such as has the 
force of a direction and a command from Him who made us 
what we are, what course of behaviour is suited to our nature, 
and which he expects that we should follow. This moral 
faculty implies also a presentiment and apprehension, that the 
judgment which it passes on our actions, considered as of 
good or ill desert, will hereafter be confirmed by the unerring 
judgment of God; when virtue and happiness, vice and 
misery, whose ideas are now so closely connected, shall be in- 
dissolubly united, and the divine government be found to cor- 
respond in the most exact proportion to the nature he has given 
us. Lastly, this just prerogative or supremacy of conscience 
it is, which Mr. Pope has described in his Universal Prayer ', 
though perhaps he may have expressed it rather too strongly, 
where he says, 

" What conscience dictates to be done, 
Or warns rne not to do, 

This teach me more than hell to shun, 
That more than heaven pursue." 



xxii 



PREFACE 



The reader will observe, that this way of treating the sub- 
ject of morals, by an appeal to facts, does not at all interfere 
with that other way, adopted by Dr. Samuel Clarke and 
others, which begins with' inquiring into the relations and 
fitnesses of things, but rather illustrates and confirms it. 
That there are essential differences in the qualities of human 
actions, established by nature, and that this natural difference 
of things, prior to and independent of all will, creates a natural 
fitness in the agent to act agreeably to it, seems as little to be 
denied, as that there is the moral difference before explained, 
from which we approve and feel a pleasure in what is right, 
and conceive a distaste to what is wrong. Still, however, 
when we are endeavouring to establish either this moral or 
that natural difference, it ought never to be forgotten, or ra- 
ther it will require to be distinctly shewn, that both of these, 
when traced up to their source, suppose an intelligent Author 
of nature and moral Ruler of the world ; who originally ap- 
pointed these differences, and by such an appointment has 
signified his will that we should conform to them, as the only 
effectual method of securing our happiness on the whole 
under his government.^ And of this consideration our Pre- 
late himself was not unmindful ; as may be collected from 
many expressions in different parts of his writings, and par- 
ticularly from the following passages in his eleventh Sermon. 
" It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of 
virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery 
are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us ; 
that they will, nay, if you please, they ought to prevail 
over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and propor- 
tion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there ever 
should be, any inconsistence between them." And again, 

* u Far be it from me," says the excellent Dr. T. Balguy (Discourse ix.) 
" to dispute the reality of a moral principle in the human heart. I feel 
its existence : T clearly discern its use and importance. But in no respect 
is it more important, than as it suggests the idea of a moral Governor. 
Let this idea be once effaced, and the principle of conscience will soon 
be found weak and ineffectual. Its influence on men's conduct, has, in- 
deed, been too much undervalued by some philosophical inquirers. But 
be that influence, while it lasts, more or less, it is not a steady and perma- 
nent principle of action. Unhappily we always have it in our power to lay 
it asleep.— Neglect alone will suppress and stifle it, and bring it almost 
into a state of stupefaction. Nor can any thing, less than the terrors of 
religion, awaken our minds from this dangerous and deadly sleep. Jt 
can never be a matter of indifference to a thinking man, whether he is to 
be happy or miserable beyond the grave." 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xxiii 



"Though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in 
affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such ; 
yet, when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither jus- 
tify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are con- 
vinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not con- 
trary to it."* 

Besides the general system of morality opened above, our 
Author in his volume of Sermons has stated with accuracy 
the difference between self-love and benevolence ; in oppo- 
sition to those who, on the one hand, make the whole of vir- 
tue to consist in benevolence,t and to those who, on the other, 
assert that every particular affection and action is resolvable 
into self-love. In combating these opinions, he has shewn, 
I think unanswerably, that there are the same kind of indica- 
tions in human nature, that we were made to promote the 
happiness of others, as that we were made to promote our 
own: that it is no just objection to this, that we have dispo- 
sitions to do evil to others as well as good : for we have also 
dispositions to do evil as well as good to ourselves, to our own 
most important interests even in this life, for the sake of gra- 
tifying a present passion : that the thing to be lamented is, 
not that men have too great a regard to their own real good, 
but that they have not enough : that benevolence is not more 
at variance with or unfriendly to self-love, than any other 
particular affection is : and that by consulting the happiness 
of others a man is so far from lessening his own, that the very 
endeavour to do so, though he should fail in the accomplish- 
ment, is a source of the highest satisfaction and peace of 
mind. J He has also, in passing, animadverted on the phi- 
losopher of Malmsbury, who in his book " Of Human Na- 
ture" has advanced, as discoveries in moral science, that 
benevolence is only the love of power, and compassion the 
fear of future calamity to ourselves. And this our Author 
has done, not so much with the design of exposing the false 
reasoning of Mr. Hobbes, but because on so perverse an ac- 
count of human nature he has raised a system, subversive of 
all justice and honesty. § 

IL The religious system of Bishop Butler is chiefly to be 

* Serm. xi. 

f See the second Dissertation " On the Nature of Virtue/' at the end 
of the Analogy. 

J See Serm. i. and xi. and the preface to the volume of Sermons. 
§ See the Notes to Serm. i. and v. 



PREFACE 



collected from the treatise, entitled, "The Analogy of Reli- 
gion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course 
of Nature." 

"All things are double one against another, and God 
hath made nothing imperfect."* On this single observation 
of the son of Sirach, the whole fabric of our Prelate's defence 
of religion, in his Analogy, is raised. Instead of indulging 
to idle speculations, how the world might possibly have been 
better than it is ; or, forgetful of the difference between hy- 
pothesis and fact, attempting to explain -the divine economy 
with respect to intelligent creatures, from preconceived no- 
tions of his own ; he first inquires what the constitution of 
nature, as made known to us in the way of experiment, actu- 
ally is ; and from this, now seen and acknowledged, he endea- 
vours to form a judgment of that larger constitution, which 
religion discovers to us. If the dispensation of Providence 
we are now under, considered as inhabitants of this world, 
and having a temporal interest to secure in it, be found, on 
examination, to be analogous to, and of a piece with, that 
further dispensation, which relates to us as designed for an- 
other world, in which we have an eternal interest, depending 
on our behaviour here ; if both may be traced up to the same 
general laws, and appear to be carried on according to the 
same plan of administration; the fair presumption is, that 
both proceed from one and the same Author. And if the 
principal parts objected to in this latter dispensation be simi- 
lar to and of the same kind with what we certainly experience 
under the former ; the objections, being clearly inconclusive 
in one case, because contradicted by plain fact, must, in all 
reason, be allowed to be inconclusive also in the other. 

This way of arguing from what is acknowledged to what 
is disputed, from things known to other things that resemble 
them, from that part of the divine establishment which is 
exposed to our view to that more important one which lies 
beyond it, is on all hands confessed to be just. By this 
method Sir Isaac Newton has unfolded the system of nature; 
by the same method Bishop Butler has explained the system 
of grace ; and thus, to use the words of a writer, whom I 
quote with pleasure, " has formed and concluded a happy 
alliance between faith and philosophy. "f 

And although the argument from analogy be allowed to 

* Ecclus. xlii. 24. 
t Mr. Mainwaring's Dissertation, prefixed to his volume of Sermons. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



XXV 



be imperfect, and by no means sufficient to solve all diffi- 
culties respecting the government of God, and the designs 
of his providence with regard to mankind (a degree of 
knowledge, which we are not furnished with faculties for 
attaining, at least in the present state) ; yet surely it is of 
importance to learn from it, that the natural and moral world 
are intimately connected, and parts of one stupendous whole 
or system ; and that the chief objections which are brought 
against religion may be urged with equal force against the 
constitution and course of nature, where they are certainly 
false in fact. And this information we may derive from the 
work before us ; the proper design of which, it may be of 
use to observe, is not to prove the truth of religion, either 
natural or revealed, but to confirm that proof, already known, 
by considerations from analogy. 

After this account of the method of reasoning employed 
by our Author, let us now advert to his manner of applying 
it, first to the subject of Natural Religion, and secondly to 
that of Revealed. 

1 . The foundation of all our hopes and fears is a future 
life ; and with this the treatise begins. Neither the reason 
of the thing, nor the analogy of nature, according to Bishop 
Butler, give ground for imagining, that the unknown event, 
death, will be our destruction. The states in which we have 
formerly existed, in the womb and in infancy, are not more 
different from each other than from that of mature age in 
which we now exist : therefore, that we shall continue to 
exist hereafter, in a state as different from the present as the 
present is from those through which we have passed already, 
is a presumption favoured by the analogy of nature. All 
that we know from reason concerning death, is the effects it 
has upon animal bodies : and the frequent instances among 
men of the intellectual powers continuing in high health and 
vigour, at the very time when a mortal disease is on the 
point of putting an end to all the powers of sensation, induce 
us to hope that it may have no effect at all on the human 
soul, not even so much as to suspend the exercise of its 
faculties ; though, if it have, the suspension of a power by 
no means implies its extinction, as sleep or a swoon may 
convince us.* 

The probability of a future state once granted, an impor- 
tant question arises, How best to secure our interest in that 

* Part i. chap. \. 



xxvi 



PREFACE 



state. We find from what passes daily before us, that the 
constitution of nature admits of misery as well as happiness ; 
that both of these are the consequences of our own actions ; 
and these consequences we are enabled to foresee. There- 
fore, that our happiness or misery in a future world may 
depend on our own actions also, and that rewards or punish- 
ments hereafter may follow our good or ill behaviour here, 
is but an appointment of the same sort with what we expe- 
rience under the divine government, according to the regular 
course of nature.* 

This supposition is confirmed from another circumstance, 
that the natural government of God, under which we now 
live, is also moral ; in which rewards and punishments are 
the consequences of actions, considered as virtuous and 
vicious. Not that every man is rewarded or punished here 
in exact proportion to his desert ; for the essential tendencies 
of virtue and vice, to produce happiness and the contrary, 
are often hindered from taking effect from accidental causes. 
However, there are plainly the rudiments and beginnings of 
a righteous administration to be discerned in the constitution 
of nature : from whence we are led to expect, that these ac- 
cidental hindrances will one day be removed, and the rule of 
distributive justice obtain completely in a more perfect state, f 

The moral government of God, thus established, implies 
in the notion of it some sort of trial, or a moral possibility of 
acting wrong as well as right, in those who are the subjects 
of it. And the doctrine of religion, that the present life is 
in fact a state of probation for a future one, is rendered 
credible, from its being analogous throughout to the general 
conduct of Providence towards us with respect to this world ; 
in which prudence is necessary to secure our temporal in- 
terest, just as we are taught that virtue is necessary to secure 
our eternal interest; and both are trusted to ourselves. J 

But the present life is not merely a state of probation, 
implying in it difficulties and danger; it is also a state of 
discipline and improvement ; and that both in our temporal 
and religious capacity. Thus childhood is a state of disci- 
pline for youth ; youth for manhood ; and that for old age. 
Strength of body, and maturity of understanding, are ac- 
quired by degrees ; and neither of them without continual 
exercise and attention on our part, not only in the beginning 
of life, but through the whole course of it. So again with 
* Chap. ii. f Chap. iii. X Chap. iv. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xxvii 



respect to our religious concerns, the present world is fitted 
to be, and to good men is in event, a state of discipline and 
improvement for a future one. The several passions and 
propensions implanted in our hearts incline us, in a multi- 
tude of instances, to forbidden pleasures : this inward In- 
firmity is increased by various snares and temptations, per- 
petually occurring from without : hence arises the necessity 
of recollection and self-government, of withstanding the calls 
of appetite, and forming our minds to habits of piety and 
virtue ; habits, of which we are capable, and which, to crea- 
tures in a state of moral imperfection, and fallen from their 
original integrity, must be of the greatest use, as an addi- 
tional security, over and above the principle of conscience, 
from the dangers to which we are exposed.* 

Nor is the credibility here given, by the analogy of nature, 
to the general doctrine of religion, destroyed or weakened 
by any notions concerning necessity. Of itself it is a mere 
word, the sign of an abstract idea ; and as much requires an 
agent, that is, a necessary agent, in order to effect any thing, 
as freedom requires a free agent. Admitting it to be specu- 
latively true, if considered as influencing practice, it is the 
same as false : for it is matter of experience, that, with regard 
to our present interest, and as inhabitants of this world, we 
•are treated as if we were free; and therefore the analogy of 
nature leads us to conclude, that, with regard to our future 
interest, and as designed for another world, we shall be 
treated as free also. Nor does the opinion of necessity, 
supposing it possible, at all affect either the general proof of 
religion, or its external evidence. f 

Still objections may be made against the wisdom and 
goodness of the divine government, to which analogy, which 
can only shew the truth or credibility of facts, affords no 
answer. Yet even here analogy is of use, if it suggest that 
the divine government is a scheme or system, and not a 
number of unconnected acts, and that this system is also 
above our comprehension. Nov/ the government of the na- 
tural world appears to be a system of this kind ; with parts, 
related to each other, and together composing a whole: in 
which system ends are brought about by the use of means, 
many of which means, before experience, would have been sus- 
pected to have had a quite contrary tendency ; which is carried 
on by general laws, similar causes uniformly producing simi- 
* Part i. chap. v. + Chap. vi. 



xxviii 



PREFACE 



lar effects : the utility of which general laws, and the incon- 
veniences which would probably arise from the occasional or 
even secret suspension of them, we are in some sort enabled 
to discern;* but of the whole we are incompetent judges, 
because of the small part which comes within our view. 
Reasoning then from what we know, it is highly credible, 
that the government of the moral world is a system also, 
carried on by general laws, and in which ends are accom- 
plished by the intervention of means ; and that both consti- 
tutions, the natural and the moral, are so connected, as to form 
together but one scheme. But of this scheme, as of that of the 
natural world taken alone, we are not qualified to judge, on 
account of the mutual respect of the several parts to each other 
and to the whole, and our own incapacity to survey the whole, 
or, with accuracy, any single part. All objections therefore 
to the wisdom and goodness of the divine government may be 
founded merely on our ignorance ;f and to such objections 
our ignorance is the proper, and a satisfactory answer.^ 

2. The chief difficulties concerning Natural Religion 
being now removed, our Author proceeds, in the next place, 
to that which is Revealed ; and as an Introduction to an in- 
quiry into the Credibility of Christianity, begins with the 
consideration of its Importance. 

The Importance of Christianity appears in two respects. 
First, in its being a republication of Natural Religion, in its 
native simplicity, with authority, and with circumstances of 
advantage ; ascertaining in many instances of moment, what 
before was only probable, and particularly confirming the 
doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments.^ 

* See a treatise on Divine Benevolence, by Dr. Thomas Balguy, part ii. 

f The ignorance of man is a favourite doctrine with Bishop Butler. It 
occurs in the Second Part of the Analogy ; it makes the subject of his 
Fifteenth Sermon ; and we meet with it again in his Charge. Whether 
sometimes it be not carried to a length which is excessive, may admit of 
doubt. J Part I. chap. vii. 

§ Admirable to this purpose are the words of Dr. T. Balguy, in the 
Ninth of his Discourses, already referred to, p. xxii. " The doctrine of a 
life to come, some persons will say, is a doctrine of natural religion ; and 
can never therefore be properly alleged to shew the importance of reve- 
lation. They judge perhaps from the frame of the world, that the present 
system is imperfect ; they see designs in it, not yet completed; and they 
think they have grounds for expecting another state, in which these de- 
signs shall be farther carried on, and brought to a conclusion, worthy of 
infinite wisdom. I am not concerned to dispute the justness of this rea- 
soning; nor do I wish to dispute it. But how far will it reach? Will it 
lead us to the Christian doctrine of a judgment to come ? Will it give us 



BY THE EDITOR, xxix 

! . . * 

Secondly, as revealing a new dispensation of Providence, 
originating from the pure love and mercy of God, and con- 
ducted by the mediation of his Son, and the guidance of his 
Spirit for the recovery and salvation of mankind, represented 
in a state of apostacy and ruin. This account of Christianity 
being admitted to be just, and the distinct offices of these 
three divine Persons being once discovered to us, we are as 
much obliged in point of duty to acknowledge the relations 
we stand in to the Son and Holy Ghost, as our Mediator and 
Sanctifier, as we are obliged in point of duty to acknowledge 
the relation we stand in to God the Father ; although the two 
former of these relations be learnt from Revelation only, and 
in the last we are instructed by the light of nature; the obli- 
gation in either case arising from the offices themselves, and 
not at all depending on the manner in which they are made 
known to us.* 

The presumptions against Revelation in general are, that 
it is not discoverable by reason, that it is unlike to what is so 
discovered, and that it was introduced and supported by 
miracles. But in a scheme so large as that of the universe, 
unbounded in extent and everlasting in duration, there must 
of necessity be numberless circumstances which are beyond 
the reach of our faculties to discern, and which can only be 
known by divine illumination. And both in the natural and 
moral government of the world, under which we live, we find 
many things unlike one to another, and therefore ought not 
to wonder if the same unlikeness obtain between things visi- 
ble and invisible; although it be far from true, that revealed 
religion is entirely unlike the constitution of nature as analogy 
may teach us. Nor is there any thing incredible in Revela- 
tion, considered as miraculous ; whether miracles be supposed 
to have been performed at the beginning of the world, or after 
a course of nature has been established. Not at the begin- 
ning of the world ; for then there was either no course of 

the prospect of an eternity of happiness 1 Nothing of all this. It shews 
us only, that death is not the end of our being ; that we are likely to pass 
hereafter into other systems, more favourable than the present to the great 
ends of God's providence, the virtue and the happiness of his intelligent 
creatures. But into what systems we are to be removed ; what new scenes 
are to be presented to us, either of pleasure or pain ; what new parts we 
shall have to act , and to what trials and temptations we may yet be ex- 
posed ; on all these subjects we know just nothing. That our happiness 
for ever depends on our conduct here, is a most important proposition, 
which we learn only from revelation." * Part II. chap. i. 



xxx PREFACE 
« 

nature at all, or a power must have been exerted totally dif- 
ferent from what that course is at present : all men and ani- 
mals cannot have been born, as they are now ; but a pair of 
each sort must have been produced at first, in a way alto- 
gether unlike to that in which they have been since produced; 
unless we affirm, that men and animals have existed from 
eternity in an endless succession; one miracle therefore at 
least there must have been at the beginning of the world, or 
at the time of man's creation. Not after the settlement of a 
course of nature^ on account of miracles being contrary to that 
course, or, in other words, contrary to experience; for, in 
order* to know whether miracles, -worked in attestation of a 
divine religion, be contrary to experience or not, we ought 
to be acquainted with other cases, similar or parallel to those, 
in which miracles are alleged to have been wrought. But 
where shall we find such similar or parallel cases? The world 
which we inhabit affords none : we know of no extraordinary 
revelations from God to man, but those recorded in the Old 
and New Testament; all of which were established by mira- 
cles : it cannot therefore be said, that miracles are incredible, 
because contrary to experience, when all the experience we 
have is in favour of miracles, and on the side of religion.* 
Besides, in reasoning concerning miracles, they ought not to 
be compared with common natural events, but with uncom- 
mon appearances, such as comets, magnetism, electricity ; 
which, to one acquainted only with the usual phenomena of 
nature, and the common powers of matter, must, before proof 
of their actual existence, be thought incredible. f 

*' " In the common affairs of life, common . experience is sufficient to 
direct us. But will common experience serve to guide our judgment con- 
cerning the fall and redemption of mankind? From what we see every day, 
can we explain the commencement, or foretell the dissolution of the world? 
To judge of events like these, we should be conversant in the history of 
other planets; should be distinctly informed of God's various dispensa- 
tions to all the different orders of rational beings. Instead then of ground- 
ing our religious opinions on what we call experience, let us apply to a more 
certain guide, let us hearken to the testimony of God himself. The credi- 
bility of human testimony, and the conduct of human agents, are subjects 
perfectly within the reach of our natural faculties; and we ought to desire 
no firmer foundation for our belief of religion, than for the judgments we 
form in the common affairs of life: where we see a little plain testimony 
easily outweighs the most specious conjectures, and not seldom even strong 
probabilities." Dr. Balguy's Fourth Charge. See also an excellent 
pamphlet, entitled, " Remarks on Mr. Hume's Essay on the Natural His- 
tory of Religion, %, 5;" and the Sixth of Dr. Powell's Discourses. 

+ Chap. ii. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xxxi 



The presumptions against Revelation in general being dis- 
patched, objections against the Christian Revelation in par- 
ticular, against the scheme of it, as distinguished from objec- 
tions against its evidence, are considered next. Now sup- 
posing a revelation to be really given, it is highly probable 
beforehand, that it must contain many things appearing to us 
liable to objections. The acknowledged dispensation of na- 
ture is very different from what we should have expected : 
reasoning then from analogy, the revealed dispensation, it is 
credible, would be also different. Nor are we in any sort 
judges at what time, or in what degree, or manner, it is fit or 
expedient for God to instruct us, in things confessedly of the 
greatest use, either by natural reason, or by supernatural in- 
formation. Thus, arguing on speculation only, and without 
experience, it would seem very unlikely that so important a 
remedy as that provided by Christianity, for the recovery of 
mankind from a state of ruin, should have been for so many 
ages withheld : and, when at last vouchsafed, should be im- 
parted to so few; and, after it has been imparted, should be 
attended with obscurity and doubt. And just so we might 
have argued, before experience, concerning the remedies 
provided in nature for bodily diseases, to which by nature 
we are exposed : for many of these were unknown to man- 
kind for a number of ages; are known but to few now; 
some important ones probably not discovered yet; and those 
which are, neither certain in their application, nor universal 
in their use: and the same mode of reasoning that would lead 
us to expect they should have been so, would lead us to ex- 
pect that the necessity of them should have been superseded, 
by there being no diseases; as the necessity of the Christian 
scheme, it maybe thought, might also have been superseded, 
by preventing the fall of man, so that he should not have 
stood in need of a Redeemer at all.* 

As to objections against the wisdom and goodness of 
Christianity, the same answer may be applied to them as 
was to the like objections against the constitution of nature. 
For here also, Christianity is a scheme or economy, composed 
of various parts, forming a whole; in which scheme means 
are used for the accomplishing of ends; and which is con- 
ducted by general laws, of all of which we know as little as 
we do of the constitution of nature. And the seeming want 
of wisdom or goodness in this system is to be ascribed to the 

* Chap. iii. 



PREFACE 



same cause, as the like appearances of defects in the natural 
system ; our inability to discern the whole scheme, and our 
ignorance of the relation of those parts which are discernible 
to others beyond our view. 

The objections against Christianity as a matter of fact, 
and against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been ob- 
viated together, the chief of them are now to be considered 
distinctly. One of these, which is levelled against the entire 
system itself, is of this sort: the restoration of mankind, re- 
presented in Scripture as the great design of the Gospel, is 
described as requiring a long series of means, and persons, 
and dispensations, before it can be brought to its completion; 
whereas the whole ought to have been effected at once. Now 
every thing we see in the course of nature shews the folly of 
this objection. For in the natural course of Providence, ends 
are brought about by means, not operating immediately and 
at once, but deliberately, and in a way of progression ; one 
thing being subservient to another, this to somewhat further. 
The change of seasons, the ripening of fruits, the growth of 
vegetable and animal bodies, are instances of this. And 
therefore, that the same progressive method should be fol- 
lowed in the dispensation of Christianity, as is observed in 
the common dispensation of Providence, is a reasonable ex- 
pectation, justified by the analogy of nature.* 

Another circumstance objected to in the Christian scheme 
is the appointment of a Mediator, and the saving of the world 
through him. But the visible government of God being 
actually administered in this way, or by the mediation and 
instrumentality of others, there can be no general presump- 
tion against an appointment of this kind, against his invisible 
government being exercised in the same manner. We have 
seen already, that with regard to ourselves this visible go- 
vernment is carried on by rewards and punishments ; for 
happiness and misery are the consequences of our own ac- 
tions, considered as virtuous and vicious ; and these conse- 
quences we are enabled to foresee. It might have been 
imagined, before consulting experience, that after we had 
rendered ourselves liable to misery by our own ill conduct, 
sorrow for what was past, and behaving well for the future, 
would, alone and of themselves, have exempted us from 
deserved punishment, and restored us to the divine favour. 
But the fact is otherwise ; and real reformation is often found 

* Chap. iv. 



BY THE EDITOR. 



xxxiii 



to be of no avail, so as to secure the criminal from poverty, 
sickness, infamy, and death, the never-failing attendants on 
vice and extravagance, exceeding a certain degree. By the 
course of nature then it appears, God does not always pardon 
a sinner on his repentance. Yet there is provision made, 
even in nature, that the miseries, which men bring on them- 
selves by unlawful indulgences, may in many cases be 
mitigated, and in some removed ; partly by extraordinary 
exertions of the offender himself, but more especially and 
frequently by the intervention of others, who voluntarily, and 
from motives of compassion, submit to labour and sorrow, 
such as produce long and lasting inconveniences to them- 
selves, as the means of rescuing another from the wretched 
effects of former imprudences. Vicarious punishment, there- 
fore, or one person's sufferings contributing to the relief of 
another, is a providential disposition in the economy of na- 
ture : # and it ought not to be matter of surprise, if by a 
method analogous to this we be redeemed from sin and mi- 
sery, in the economy of grace. That mankind at present are 
in a state of degradation, different from that in which they 
were originally created, is the very ground of the Christian 
revelation, as contained in the Scriptures. Whether we 
acquiesce in the account, that our being placed in such a 
state is owing to the crime of our first parents, or choose to 
ascribe it to any other cause, it makes no difference as to our 
condition : the vice and unhappiness of the world are still 
there, notwithstanding all our suppositions ; nor is it Chris- 
tianity that hath put us into this state. We learn also from 
the same Scriptures, what experience and the use of expia- 
tory sacrifices from the most early times might have taught 
us, that repentance alone is not sufficient to prevent the fatal 
consequences of past transgressions : but that still there is 
room for mercy, and that repentance shall be available, though 

* Dr. Arthur Ashley Sykes, from whose writings some good may be 
collected out of a multitude of things of a contrary tendency, in what he 
is pleased to call " The Scripture Doctrine of Redemption," [see the 
observations on the texts cited in his first chapter, and also in chapters 
the fifth and sixth,] opposes what is here advanced by Bishop Butler; 
quoting his words, but without mentioning his name. If what is said 
above be not thought a sufficient answer to the objections of this author, 
the reader may do well to consult a Charge " On the Use and Abuse of 
Philosophy in the Study of Religion/' by the late Dr. Powell ; who seems 
to me to have had the observations of Dr. Sykes in his view, where he is 
confuting the reasonings of certain philosophizing Divines against the 
doctrine of the Atonement. Powell's Discourse, Charge III. p. 342—348. 

c 



xxxiv 



PREFACE 



not of itself, yet through the mediation of a divine Person, 
the Messiah ; who, from the sublimest principles of compas- 
sion, when we were dead in trespasses and sins* suffered and 
died, the innocent for the guilty, the just for the unjust^ 
that we might have redemption through his blood, even the for- 
giveness of sins.^ In what way the death of Christ was of 
that efficacy it is said to be, in procuring the reconciliation 
of sinners, the Scriptures have not explained : it is enough 
that the doctrine is revealed ; that it is not contrary to any 
truths which reason and experience teach us ; and that it 
accords in perfect harmony with the usual method of the 
divine conduct in the government of the world.§ 

Again it hath been said, that if the Christian revelation 
were true, it must have been universal, and could not have 
been left upon doubtful evidence. But God, in his natural 
providence, dispenses his gifts in great variety, not only 
among creatures of the same species, but to the same indi- 
viduals also at different times. Had the Christian revelation 
been universal at first, yet, from the diversity of men's abili- 
ties, both of mind and body, their various means of improve- 
ment, and other external advantages, some persons must 
soon have been in a situation, with respect to religious know- 
ledge, much superior to that of others, as much perhaps as 
they are at present : and all men will be equitably dealt 
with at last; and to whom little is given, of him little will 
be required. Then as to the evidence for religion being left 
doubtful, difficulties of this sort, like difficulties in practice, 
afford scope and opportunity for a virtuous exercise of the 
understanding, and dispose the mind to acquiesce and rest 
satisfied with any evidence that is real. In the daily com- 
merce of life, men are obliged to act upon great uncertainties, 
with regard to success in their temporal pursuits : and the 
case with regard to religion is parallel. However, though 
religion be not intuitively true, the proofs of it which we 
have are amply sufficient in reason to induce us to embrace 
it ; and dissatisfaction with those proofs may possibly be 
men's own fault. || 

Nothing remains but to attend to the positive evidence 
there is for the truth of Christianity. Now, besides its di- 
rect and fundamental proofs, which are miracles and pro- 
phecies, there are many collateral circumstances, which may 

* Ephes. ii. 1. f 1 Pet. iii. 18. % Coloss. i. 14. 

§ Chap.v. || Chap.vi. 



BY THE EDITOR. xxxv 

be united into one view, and all together may be considered 
as making up one argument. In this way of treating the 
subject, the revelation, whether real or otherwise, may be sup- 
posed to be wholly historical : the general design of which 
appears to be, to give an account of the condition of reli- 
gion, and its professors, with a concise narration of the poli- 
tical state of things, as far as religion is affected by it, during 
a great length of time, near six thousand years of which are 
already past. More particularly it comprehends an account 
of God's entering into covenant with one nation, the Jews, 
that he would be their God, and that they should be his peo- 
ple ; of his often interposing in their affairs ; giving them 
the promise, and afterwards the possession, of a flourishing 
country ; assuring them of the greatest national prosperity, 
in case of their obedience, and threatening the severest na- 
tional punishment, in case they forsook him, and joined in 
the idolatry of their Pagan neighbours. It contains also a 
prediction of a particular person to appear in the fulness of 
time, in whom all the promises of God to the Jews were to 
be fulfilled : and it relates, that, at the time expected, a per- 
son did actually appear, assuming to be the Saviour foretold ; 
that he worked various miracles among them, in confirmation 
of his divine authority; and, as was foretold also, was re- 
jected and put to death by the very people who had long 
desired and waited for his coming ; but that his religion, in 
spite of all opposition, was established in the world by his 
disciples, invested with supernatural powers for that purpose ; 
of the fate and fortunes of which religion there is a pro- 
phetical description, carried down to the end of time. Let 
any one now, after reading the above history, and not know- 
ing whether the whole were not a fiction, be supposed to 
ask, Whether all that is here related be true ? and instead 
of a direct answer, let him be informed of the several ac- 
knowledged facts, which are found to correspond to it in real 
life ; and then let him compare the history and facts toge- 
ther, and observe the astonishing coincidence of both : such 
a joint review must appear to him of very great weight, and 
to amount to evidence somewhat more than human. And 
unless the whole series, and every particular circumstance 
contained in it, can be thought to have arisen from accident, 
the truth of Christianity is proved.* 

* Chap. vii. To the Analogy are subjoined two Dissertations, both 
originally inserted in the body of the work. One on Personal Identity, in 

c 2 



xxxvi 



PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. 



The view here given of the moral and religious systems of 
Bishop Butler, it will immediately be perceived, is chiefly 
intended for younger students, especially for students in 
Divinity ; to whom it is hoped it may be of use, so as to 
encourage them to peruse, with proper diligence, the ori- 
ginal works of the Author himself. For it may be neces- 
sary to observe, that neither of the volumes of this excellent 
Prelate are addressed to those who read for amusement, or 
curiosity, or to get rid of time. All subjects are not to be 
comprehended with the same ease ; and morality and religion, 
when treated as sciences., each accompanied with difficulties 
of its own, can neither of them be understood as they ought, 
without a very peculiar attention. But morality and religion 
are not merely to be studied as sciences, or as being specu- 
latively true ; they are to be regarded in another and higher 
light, as the rule of life and manners, as containing authori- 
tative directions by which to regulate our faith and practice. 
And in this view, the infinite importance of them considered, 
it can never be an indifferent matter whether they be received 
or rejected. For both claim to be the voice of God ; and 
whether they be so or not, cannot be known, till their claims 
be impartially examined. If they indeed come from Him, 
we are bound to conform to them at our peril : nor is it left 
to our choice, whether we will submit to the obligations 
they impose upon us or not ; for submit to them we must, in 
such a sense, as to incur the punishments denounced by both 
against wilful disobedience to their injunctions. 

which are contained some strictures on Mr. Locke, who asserts that con- 
sciousness makes or constitutes personal identity ; whereas, as our Author 
observes, consciousness makes only personality, or is necessary to the 
idea of a person, i. e. a thinking intelligent being, but presupposes, and 
therefore cannot constitute, personal identity; just as knowledge presup- 
poses truth, but does not constitute it. Consciousness of past actions 
does indeed shew us the identity of ourselves, or gives us a certain as- 
surance that we are the same persons or living agents now, which we were 
at the time to which our remembrance can look back : but still we should 
be the same persons as we were, though this consciousness of what is past 
were wanting, though all that had been done by us formerly were for- 
gotten ; unless it be true, that no person has existed a single moment 
beyond what he can remember. The other Dissertation is On the Nature 
of Virtue, which properly belongs to the moral system of our Author, 
already explained. 



THE 



LIFE OF DR. BUTLER. 



Dr. Joseph Butler, a Prelate of the most distinguished 
character and abilities, was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, 
in the year 1692. His father, Mr. Thomas Butler, who was 
a substantial and reputable shopkeeper in that town, observ- 
ing in his son Joseph* an excellent genius and inclination 
for learning, determined to educate him for the ministry, 
among the Protestant Dissenters of the Presbyterian deno- 
mination. For this purpose, after he had gone through a 
proper course of grammatical literature, at the free grammar 
school of his native place, under the care of the Rev. Mr. 
Philip Barton, a Clergyman of the Church of England, he 
was sent to a Dissenting academy, then kept at Gloucester, 
but which was soon afterwards removed to Tewkesbury. The 
principal tutor of this academy was Mr. Jones, a man of 
uncommon abilities and knowledge, who had the honour of 
training up several scholars, who became of great eminence, 
both in the Established Church and among the Dissenters. 
At Tewkesbury Mr. Butler made an extraordinary progress 
in the study of Divinity ; of which he gave a remarkable 
proof, in the letters addressed by him, while he resided at 
Tewkesbury, to Dr. Samuel Clarke, laying before him the 
doubts that had arisen in his mind, concerning the conclu- 
siveness of some arguments in the Doctor's demonstration of 
the being and attributes of God. The first of these letters 
was dated the 4th of November, 1713 ; and the sagacity and 
depth of thought displayed in it, immediately excited Dr. 
Clarke's particular notice. This condescension encouraged 
Mr. Butler to address the Doctor again upon the same sub- 
ject, which likewise was answered by him ; and the cor- 
* He was the youngest of eight children. 



xxxviii 



THE LIFE OF 



respondence being carried on in three other letters, the whole 
was annexed to the celebrated treatise before mentioned, and 
the collection has been retained in all the subsequent editions 
of that work. The management of this correspondence was 
entrusted by Mr. Butler to his friend and fellow-pupil, Mr. 
Seeker, who, in order to conceal the affair, undertook to 
convey the letters to the post-office at Gloucester, and to 
bring back Dr. Clarke's answers. When Mr. Butler's name 
was discovered to the Doctor, the candour, modesty, and 
good sense, with which he had written, immediately procured 
him the friendship of that eminent and excellent man. Our 
young student was not, however, during his continuance at 
Tewkesbury, solely employed in metaphysical speculations 
and inquiries. Another subject of his serious consideration 
was, the propriety of his becoming a Dissenting minister. 
Accordingly, he entered into an examination of the principles 
of non-conformity; the result of which was, such a dissa- 
tisfaction with them, as determined him to conform to the 
Established Church. This intention was, at first, disagree- 
able to his father, who endeavoured to divert him from his 
purpose ; and, with that view, called in the assistance of 
some eminent Presbyterian Divines ; but finding his son's 
resolution to be fixed, he at length suffered him to be removed 
to Oxford, where he was admitted a commoner of Oriel 
College, on the 17th of March, 1714. At what time he took 
Orders doth not appear, nor who the Bishop was by whom 
he was ordained ; but it is certain that he entered into the 
Church soon after his admission at Oxford, if it be true, as 
is asserted, that he sometimes assisted Mr. Edward Talbot 
in the divine service, at his living of Hendred, near Wantage. 
With this gentleman, who was the second son of Dr. William 
Talbot, successively Bishop of Oxford, Salisbury, and Dur- 
ham, Mr. Butler formed an intimate friendship at Oriel 
College ; which friendship laid the foundation of all his 
subsequent preferments, and procured for him a very honour- 
able situation, when he was only twenty-six years of age. 
For it was in 1718 that, at the recommendation of Mr. Talbot, 
in conjunction with that of Dr. Clarke, he was appointed by 



DR. BUTLER. xxxik 

Sir Joseph Jekyll to be preacher at the Rolls. This was 
three years before he had taken any degree at the University, 
where he did not go out Bachelor of Law till the 10th of 
June 1721, which, however, was as soon as that degree could 
suitably be conferred upon him. Mr. Butler continued at 
the Rolls till 1726 ; in the beginning of which year he pub- 
lished, in one volume octavo, " Fifteen Sermons preached at 
that Chapel." In the meanwhile, by the patronage of Dr. 
Talbot, Bishop of Durham, to whose notice he had been 
recommended (together with Mr. Benson and Mr. Seeker) 
by Mr. Edward Talbot, on his death-bed, our Author had 
been presented first to the rectory of Haughton, near Dar- 
lington, and afterwards to that of Stanhope, in the same 
diocese. The benefice of Haughton was given to him in 
1722, and that of Stanhope in 1725. At Haughton there 
was a necessity for rebuilding a great part of the parsonage- 
house, and Mr. Butler had neither money nor talents for that 
work. Mr. Seeker, therefore, who had always the interest 
of his friends at heart, and acquired a very considerable 
influence with Bishop Talbot, persuaded that Prelate to give 
Mr. Butler, in exchange for Haughton, the rectory of Stan- 
hope, which was not only free from any such incumbrance, 
but was likewise of much superior value, being indeed one 
of the richest parsonages in England. Whilst our Author 
continued preacher at the Rolls Chapel, he divided his time 
between his duty in town and country ; but when he quitted 
the Rolls, he resided, during seven years, wholly at Stanhope, 
in the conscientious discharge of every obligation appertain- 
ing to a good parish priest. This retirement, however, was 
too solitary for his disposition, which had in it a natural cast 
of gloominess. And though his recluse hours were by no 
means lost, either to private improvement or public utility, 
yet he felt at times, very painfully, the want of that select 
society of friends to which he had been accustomed, and 
which could inspire him with the greatest cheerfulness, Mr. 
Seeker, therefore, who knew this, was extremely anxious to 
draw him out into a more active and conspicuous scene, and 
omitted no opportunity of expressing this desire to such as 



xl 



THE LIFE OF 



he thought capable of promoting it. Having himself been 
appointed King's Chaplain in 1732, he took occasion, in a 
conversation which he had the honour of holding with 
Queen Caroline, to mention to her his friend Mr. Butler. 
The Queen said she thought he had been dead. Mr. Seeker 
assured her he was not. Yet her Majesty afterwards asked 
Archbishop Blackburn if he was not dead : his answer was, 
" No, madam; but he is buried." Mr. Seeker continuing 
his purpose of endeavouring to bring his friend out of his 
retirement, found means, upon Mr. Charles Talbot's being 
made Lord Chancellor, to have Mr. Butler recommended to 
him for his Chaplain. His Lordship accepted, and sent for 
him ; and this promotion calling him to Town, he took Oxford 
in his way, and was admitted there to the degree of Doctor 
of Law, on the 8th of December, 1733. The Lord Chan- 
cellor, who gave him also a prebend in the church of 
Rochester, had consented that he should reside at his parish 
of Stanhope one half of the year. 

Dr. Butler being thus brought back into the world, his 
merit and his talents soon introduced him to particular notice, 
and paved the way for his rising to those high dignities 
which he afterwards enjoyed. In 1736 he was appointed 
Clerk of the Closet to Queen Caroline; and, in the same 
year, he presented to her Majesty a copy of his excellent 
Treatise, entitled, " The Analogy of Religion, Natural and 
Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." His 
attendance upon his Royal Mistress, by her especial com- 
mand, was from seven to nine in the evening every day : 
and though this particular relation to that excellent and 
learned Queen was soon determined by her death in 1737, 
yet he had been so effectually recommended by her, as well 
as by the late Lord Chancellor Talbot, to his Majesty's 
favour, that in the next year he was raised to the highest 
order of the Church, by a nomination to the bishopric of 
Bristol ; to which see he was consecrated on the 3d of De- 
cember 1738. King George II. not being satisfied with 
this proof of his regard to Dr> Butler, promoted him, in 
1740, to the Deanery of St. Paul's, London; into which he 



DR. BUTLER. 



xl. 



was installed on the 24th of May in that year. Finding 
the demands of this dignity to be incompatible with his 
parish duty at Stanhope, he immediately resigned that rich 
benefice. Besides our Prelate's unremitted attention to his 
peculiar obligations,, he was called upon to preach several 
discourses oh public occasions, which were afterwards se- 
parately printed, and have since been annexed to the latter 
editions of the Sermons at the Rolls Chapel. In 174G, upon 
the death of Dr. Egerton, Bishop of Hereford, Dr. Butler 
was made Clerk of the Closet to the King; and, on the 
16th of October 1750, he received another distinguished 
mark of his Majesty's favour, by being translated to the see 
of Durham. This was on the 16th of October in that year, 
upon the decease of Dr. Edward Chandler. Our Prelate 
being thus appointed to preside over a diocese with which 
he had long been connected, delivered his first, and indeed 
his last Charge to his Clergy, at his primary visitation in 
1751. The principal object of it was " External Religion." 
The Bishop having observed, with deep concern, the great 
and growing neglect of serious piety in the kingdom, in- 
sisted strongly on the usefulness of outward forms and 
institutions, in fixing and preserving a sense of devotion and 
duty in the minds of men. In doing this, he was thought 
by several persons to speak too favourably of Pagan and 
Popish ceremonies, and to countenance, in a certain degree, 
the cause of superstition. Under that apprehension, an able 
and spirited writer, who was understood to be a Clergyman 
of the Church of England, published, in 1752, a pamphlet, 
entitled, " A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance 
of External Religion ; occasioned by some Passages in the 
Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Durham's Charge to the 
Clergy of that Diocese ; — Humbly addressed to his Lord- 
ship." Many persons, however, and we believe the greater 
part of the Clergy of the diocese, did not think our Prelate's 
Charge so exceptionable as it appeared to this author. The 
Charge, being printed at Durham, and having never been 
annexed to any of Dr. Butler's other works, is now become 
extremely scarce ; and it is observable, that it is the only 



xlii 



THE LIFE OF 



one of his publications which ever produced him a direct 
literary antagonist. 

By this promotion, our worthy Bishop was furnished with 
ample means of exerting the virtue of charity; a virtue 
which eminently abounded in him, and the exercise of 
which was his highest delight. But this gratification he 
did not long enjoy. He had been but a short time seated 
in his new bishopric, when his health began visibly to de- 
cline ; and having been complimented, during his indispo- 
sition, upon account of his great resignation to the Divine 
will, he is said to have expressed some regret, that he should 
be taken from the present world so soon after he had been 
rendered capable of becoming much more useful in it. In 
his last illness he was carried to Bristol, to try the waters of 
that place; but these proving ineffectual, he removed to 
Bath, where, being past recovery, he died on the 16th of 
June 1752. His corpse was conveyed to Bristol, and in- 
terred in the cathedral there, where a monument, with an 
inscription, is erected to his memory. 

On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need 
not enlarge ; for his profound knowledge, and the prodigious 
strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his incompara- 
ble writings. His piety was of the most serious and fervent, 
and, perhaps, somewhat of the ascetic kind. His benevo- 
lence was warm, generous, and diffusive. Whilst he was 
Bishop of Bristol, he expended, in repairing and improving 
the episcopal palace, four thousand pounds, which is said 
to have been more than the whole revenues of the bishopric 
amounted to, during his continuance in that see. Besides 
his private benefactions, he was a contributor to the infirmary 
at Bristol, and a subscriber to three of the hospitals at Lon- 
don. He was likewise a principal promoter, though not the 
first founder, of the infirmary at Newcastle, in Northumber- 
land. In supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich 
and powerful diocese of Durham, he was desirous of imitat- 
ing the spirit of his patron, Bishop Talbot. In this spirit he 
set apart three days every week for the reception and enter- 
tainment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor were 



DR. BUTLER. 



xliii 



even the Clergy who had the poorest benefices neglected by 
him. He not only occasionally invited them to dine with 
him, but condescended to visit them at their respective 
parishes. By his will he left five hundred pounds to the 
Society for propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and 
some legacies to his friends and domestics. His executor 
and residuary legatee was his chaplain, the Rev. Dr. 
Nathanael Forster, a divine of distinguished literature. 
Bishop Butler was never married Soon after his decease, 
the following lines, by way of epitaph, were written con- 
cerning him ; and were printed first, if we recollect aright, 
in the London Magazine. 

Beneath this marble Butler lies entomb'd, 
Who, with a soul inflam'd by love divine, 

His life in presence of his God consum'd, 
Like the bright lamps before the holy shrine. 

His aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught : 
His eloquence was like a chain of gold, 
That the wild passions of mankind controll'd ; 

Merit, wherever to be found, he sought. 

Desire of transient riches he had none ; 
These he, with bounteous hand, did well dispense ; 
Bent to fulfil the ends of Providence ; 

His heart still fix'd on an immortal crown. 
His heart a mirror was, of purest kind, 
Where the bright image of his Maker shin'd ; 

Reflecting faithful to the throne above, 

Th' irradiant glories of the Mystic Dove. 



[ xliv ] 



The following Epitaph, said to be written by Dr. Natha- 
nael Forster, is inscribed on a flat marble stone, in the 
cathedral church of Bristol, placed over the spot where the 
remains of Bishop Butler are deposited; and which, as it 
is now almost obliterated, it may be worth while here to 
preserve. 

H. S. 

Reverendus admodum in Christo Pater 
JOSEPHUS BUTLER, LL.D. 

Hujusce primo Diceceseos 
Deinde Dunelmensis Episcopus. 

Qualis quantusque Vir erat 
Sua libentissime agnovit setas : 
Et si quid Prsesuli aut Scriptori ad famam valent 
Mens altissiraa, 
Ingenii perspicacis et subacti Vis, 
Animusque pius, simplex, candidus, liberalis, 
Mortui haud facile evanescet memoria. 
Obiit Bathonise 16 Kalend. Julii, 
A. D. 1752. 
Annos natus 60. 



THE 

ANALOGY OF RELIGION, 

NATURAL AND REVEALED, 

TO THE 

CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. 



TO THE 
RIGHT HONOURABLE 

CHARLES, LORD TALBOT, 

BARON OF HENSOL, 
LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN, 
THE 

FOLLOWING TREATISE 

IS, WITH ALL RESPECT, INSCRIBED, 

IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF THE HIGHEST OBLIGATIONS 

TO 

THE LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM 
AND TO HIMSELF, 

BY HIS LORDSHIP'S MOST DUTIFUL, 
MOST DEVOTED, 

AND MOST HUMBLE SERVANT, 

JOSEPH BUTLER. 



ADVERTISEMENT 



PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



If the reader should meet here with any thing which he 
had not before attended to, it will not be in the observations 
upon the constitution and course of nature, these being all 
obvious ; but in the application of them : in which, though 
there is nothing but what appears to me of some real weight, 
and therefore of great importance; yet he will observe 
several things, which will appear to him of very little, if he 
can think things to be of little importance, which are of any 
real weight at all, upon such a subject as religion. How- 
ever, the proper force of the following Treatise lies in the 
whole general analogy considered together. 

It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by 
many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject 
of inquiry; but that it is, now at length, discovered to be 
fictitious. And accordingly they treat it, as if, in the pre- 
sent age, this were an agreed point among all people of 
discernment ; and nothing remained, but to set it up as a 
principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way 
of reprisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures 
of the world. On the contrary, thus much, at least, will be 
here found, not taken for granted, but proved, that any 
reasonable man, who will thoroughly consider the matter, 
may be as much assured, as he is of his own being, that 
it is not, however, so clear a case, that there is nothing 
in it. There is, I think, strong evidence of its truth ; but 
it is certain no one can, upon principles of reason, be 
satisfied of the contrary. And the practical consequence to 
be drawn from this is not attended to by every one who is 
concerned in it. 

May, 1736. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Introduction. ... . . , ... . . . 51 

PART I. 

OF NATURAL RELIGION. 
Chap. I.— Of a Future Life . . . 59 



Chap. II. — Of the Government of God by Rewards and 



Punishments; and particularly of the latter . . 83 

Chap. HI.— Of the Moral Government of God ... 83 

Chap. IV. — Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, 

Difficulties, and Danger 103 

Chap. V. — Of a State of Probation, as intended for 

moral Discipline and Improvement . . . . .109. 

Chap. VI. — Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered 

as influencing Practice 128 

Chap. VII. — Of the Government of God, considered 
as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly compre- 
hended .............. 141 

Conclusion . 149 



PART II. 
OF REVEALED RELIGION. 
Chap. I. — Of the Importance of Christianity . . . 155 

Chap. II.- — Of the supposed Presumption against a 

Revelation, considered as miraculous . _ . . .169 

D 



1 CONTENTS. 

Page 

Chap. III. — Of our Incapacity of judging, what were 
to be expected in a Revelation; and the Credi- 
bility, from Analogy, that it must contain Things 
appearing liable to Objections 175 

Chap. IV. — Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme 

or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended . . .187 

Chap. V. — Of the particular System of Christianity; 
the Appointment of a Mediator, and the Redemp- 
tion of the World by him 193 

Chap. VI. — Of the Want of Universality in Revelation: 

and of the supposed Deficiency in the Proof of it . 208 

Chap. VII. — -Of the particular Evidence for Chris- 
tianity 224 

Chap. VIII. — Of the Objections which maybe made 
against arguing from the Analogy of Nature to 
Religion 253 

Conclusion 263 

Dissertation I. — Of Personal Identity .... 273 

Dissertation II.— Of the Nature of Virtue . . .279 



! 

INTRODUCTION. 



Probable evidence is essentially distinguished from de- 
monstrative by this, that it admits of degrees; and of all 
variety of them, from the highest moral certainty, to the very 
lowest presumption. We cannot indeed say a thing is pro- 
bably true upon one very slight presumption for it; because, 
as there may be probabilities on both sides of a question, 
there may be some against it : and though there be not, yet 
a slight presumption does not beget that degree of convic- 
tion, which is implied in saying a thing is probably true. 
But that the slightest possible presumption is of the nature 
of a probability, appears from hence ; that such low pre- 
sumption often repeated, will amount even to moral certainty. 
Thus a man's having observed the ebb and flow of the tide 
to-day, affords some sort of presumption, though the lowest 
imaginable, that it may happen again to-morrow : but the 
observation of this event for so many days, and months, and 
ages together, as it has been observed by mankind, gives us 
a full assurance that it will. 

That which chiefly constitutes Probability is expressed in 
the word Likely, i. e. like some truth,* or true event; like it, 
in itself, in its evidence, in some more or fewer of its circum- 
stances. For when we determine a thing to be probably 
true, suppose that an event has or will come to pass, it is 
from the mind's remarking in it a likeness to some other 
event, which we have observed has come to pass. And this 
observation forms, in numberless daily instances, a presump- 
tion, opinion, or full conviction, that such event has or will 
come to pass ; according as the observation is, that the like 
event has sometimes, most commonly, or always, so far as 
our observation reaches, come to pass at like distances of 
time, or place, or upon like occasions. Hence arises the 
belief, that a child, if it lives twenty years, will grow up to 
the stature and strength of a man ; that food will contribute 
to the preservation of its life, and the want of it for such a 
number of days, be its certain destruction. So likewise the 

* Verisimile. 
D 2 



52 



Introduction. 



rule and measure of our hopes and fears concerning the suc- 
cess of our pursuits; our expectations that others will act 
so and so in such circumstances ; and our judgment that 
such actions proceed from such principles ; all these rely 
upon our having observed the like to what we hope, fear, 
expect, judge ; I say, upon our having observed the like, 
either with respect to others or ourselves. And thus, whereas 
the prince* who had always lived in a warm climate, natu- 
rally concluded in the way of analogy, that there was no 
such thing as water's becoming hard, because he had always 
observed it to be fluid and yielding : we, on the contrary, 
from analogy conclude, that there is no presumption at all 
against this : that it is supposable there may be frost in 
England any given day in January next ; probable that there 
will on some day of the month ; and that there is a moral 
certainty, i. e. ground for an expectation without any doubt 
of it, in some part or other of the winter. 

Probable evidence, in its very nature, affords but an im- 
perfect kind of information ; and is to be considered as rela- 
tive only to beings of limited capacities. For nothing which 
is the possible object of knowledge, whether past, present, or 
future, can be probable to an infinite Intelligence ; since it 
cannot but be discerned absolutely as it is in itself, certainly 
true, or certainly false. But to us, probability is the very 
guide of life. 

From these things it follows, that in questions of difficulty, 
or such as are thought so, where more satisfactory evidence 
cannot be had, or is not seen ; if the result of examination 
be, that there appears upon the whole, any the lowest pre- 
sumption on one side, and none on the other, or a greater 
presumption on one side, though in the lowest degree greater; 
this determines the question, even in matters of speculation ; 
and in matters of practice, will lay us under an absolute and 
formal obligation, in point of prudence and of interest, to act 
upon that presumption or low probability, though it be so 
low as to leave the mind in very great doubt which is the 
truth. For surely a man is as really bound in prudence to 
do what upon the whole appears, according to the best of his 
judgment, to be for his happiness, as what he certainly knows 
to be so. Nay further, in questions of great consequence, a 
reasonable man will think it concerns him to remark lower 
probabilities and presumptions than these ; such as amount 
* The story is told by Mr. Locke in the Chapter of Probability. 



Introduction. 53 

to no more than shewing one side of a question to be as sup- 
posable and credible as the other : nay, such as but amount 
to much less even than this. For numberless instances might 
be mentioned respecting the common pursuits of life, where 
a man would be thought, in a literal sense, distracted, who 
would not act, and with great application too, not only upon 
an even chance, but upon much less, and where the proba- 
bility or chance was greatly against his succeeding.* 

It is not my design to inquire further into the nature, the 
foundation, and measure of probability ; or whence it pro- 
ceeds that likeness should beget that presumption, opinion, 
and full conviction, which the human mind is formed to re- 
ceive from it, and which it does necessarily produce in every 
one ; or to guard against the errors, to which reasoning from 
analogy is liable. This belongs to the subject of Logic ; 
and is a part of that subject which has not yet been tho- 
roughly considered. Indeed I shall not take upon me to 
say, how far the extent, compass, and force, of analogical 
reasoning, can be reduced to general heads and rules ; and 
the whole be formed into a system. But though so little in 
this way has been attempted by those who have treated of 
our intellectual powers, and the exercise of them • this does 
not hinder but that we may be, as we unquestionably are, 
assured, that analogy is of weight, in various degrees, to- 
wards determining our judgment and our practice. Nor 
does it in any wise cease to be of weight in those eases, be- 
cause persons, either given to dispute, or who require things 
to be stated with greater exactness than our faculties appear 
to admit of in practical matters, may find other cases in 
which it is not easy to say, whether it be, or be not, of 
any weight ; or instances of seeming analogies, which are 
really of none. It is enough to the present purpose to ob- 
serve, that this general way of arguing is evidently natural, 
just, and conclusive. For there is no man can make a ques- 
tion but that the sun will rise to-morrow, and be seen, where 
it is seen at all, in the figure of a circle, and not in that of a 
square. 

Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origenf has 
with singular sagacity observed, that. Me who believes the 

* See Part IL Chap. vi. 
f Xp») \ikv rot yf rbv aira^ tt apa^el/ifievov rov ktlgclvtoq rov Koajioi' eTvac 
ravrag rag ypatydg TrsTreiaSat, on oaa 7repl rrjg KTtrreiog Inzavrq, rdlg £rjTovai rov 
arept aurfjg Xoyov, ravra km tveol tGjv ypatyibv. Philocal. p. 23. Ed. CanU 



54 



Introduction, 



Scripture to have proceeded from him who is the Author of 
Nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difficulties 
in it, as are found in the constitution of Nature. And in a 
like way of reflection it may be added, that he who denies 
the Scripture to have been from God upon account of these 
difficulties, may, for the very same reason, deny the world to 
have been formed by him. On the other hand, if there be 
an analogy or likeness between that system of things and dis- 
pensation of Providence, which Revelation informs us of, 
and that system of things and dispensation of Providence, 
which Experience together with Reason informs us of, i. e. 
the known course of Nature; this is a presumption, that they 
have both the same author and cause ; at least so far as to 
answer objections against the former's being from God, drawn 
from any thing which is analogical or similar to what is in 
the latter, which is acknowledged to be from him; for an 
Author of Nature is here supposed. 

Forming our notions of the constitution and government 
of the world upon reasoning, without foundation for the prin- 
ciples which we assume, whether from the attributes of God, 
or any thing else, is building a world upon hypothesis, like 
Des Cartes. Forming our notions upon reasoning from prin- 
ciples which are certain, but applied to cases to which we 
have no ground to apply them (like those who explain the 
structure of the human body, and the nature of diseases and 
medicines from mere mathematics without sufficient data ), 
is an error much akin to the former : since what is assumed 
in order to make the reasoning applicable, is Hypothesis. 
But it must be allowed just, to join abstract reasonings with 
the observation of facts, and argue from such facts as are 
known, to others that are like them; from that part of the 
Divine government over intelligent creatures which comes 
under our view, to that larger and more general government 
over them which is beyond it; and from what is present, to 
collect what is likely, credible, or not incredible, will be 
hereafter. 

This method then of concluding and determining being 
practical, and what, if we will act at all, we cannot but act 
upon in the common pursuits of life; being evidently conclu- 
sive, in various degrees, proportionable to the degree and 
exactness of the whole analogy or likeness; and having so 
great authority for its introduction into the subject of religion, 
even revealed religion ; my design is to apply it to that subject 



Introduction. 



55 



in general, both natural and revealed : taking for proved, 
that there is an intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Go- 
vernor of the world. For as there is no presumption against 
this prior to the proof of it : so it has been often proved with 
i accumulated evidence; from this argument of analogy and 
final causes ; from abstract reasonings ; from the most ancient 
tradition and testimony; and from the general consent of 
mankind. Nor does it appear, so far as I can find, to be de- 
nied by the generality of those who profess themselves dissa- 
tisfied with the evidence of religion. 

As there are some, who, instead of thus attending to what 
is in fact the constitution of Nature, form their notions of 
God's government upon hypothesis: so there are others, who 
indulge themselves in vain and idle speculations, how the 
world might possibly have been framed otherwise than it is ; 
and upon supposition that things might, in imagining that 
they should, have been disposed and carried on after a better 
model, than what appears in the present disposition and con- 
duct of them. Suppose now a person of such a turn of mind, 
to go on with his reveries, till he had at length fixed upon 
some particular plan of Nature, as appearing to him the best. 

One shall scarce be thought guilty of detraction against 

human understanding, if one should say, even beforehand, 
that the plan which this speculative person would fix upon, 
though he were the wisest of the sons of men, probably 
would not be the very best, even according to his own no- 
tions of best; whether he thought that to be so, which afforded 
occasions and motives for the exercise of the greatest virtue, 
or which was productive of the greatest happiness, or that 
these two were necessarily connected, and run up into one 
and the same plan. However, it may not be amiss once 
for all to see, what would be the amount of these emen- 
dations and imaginary improvements upon the system of 
nature, or how far they would mislead us. And it seems 
there could be no stopping, till we came to some such con- 
clusions as these: that all creatures should at first be made 
as perfect and as happy as they were capable of ever being : 
that nothing, to be sure, of hazard or danger should be put 
upon them to do ; some indolent persons would perhaps 
think nothing at all : or certainly, that effectual care should 
be taken, that they should, whether necessarily or not, yet 
eventually and in fact, always do what was right and most 
conducive to happiness, which would be thought easy for 



56 



Introduction. 



infinite power to effect ; either by not giving them any prin- 
ciples which would endanger their going wrong ; or by lay- 
ing the right motive of action in every instance before their 
minds continually in so strong a manner, as would never fail 
of inducing them to act conformably to it : and that the whole 
method of government by punishments should be rejected as 
absurd; as an awkward round-about method of carrying 
things on ; nay, as contrary to a principal purpose, for which 
it would be supposed creatures were made, namely happiness. 

Now, without considering what is to be said in particular 
to the several parts of this train of folly and extravagance ; 
what has been above intimated, is a full direct general an- 
swer to it, namely, that we may see beforehand that we have 
not faculties for this kind of speculation. ) For though it be 
admitted, that, from the first principles of our nature, we un- 
avoidably judge or determine some ends to be absolutely in 
themselves preferable to others, and that the ends now men- 
tioned, or if they run up into one, that this one is absolutely 
the best; and consequently that we must conclude the ulti- 
mate end designed, in the constitution of Nature and. conduct 
of Providence, is the most virtue and happiness possible : yet 
we are far from being able to judge what particular disposition 
of things would be most friendly and assistant to virtue; or 
what means might be absolutely necessary to produce the 
most happiness in a system of such extent as our own world 
may be, taking in all that is past and to come, thoug-h we 
should suppose it detached from the whole of things. Indeed 
we are so far from being able to judge of this, that we are 
not judges what may be the necessary means of raising and 
conducting one person to the highest perfection and happi- 
ness of his nature. Nay, even in the little affairs of the pre- 
sent life, we find men of different educations and ranks are 
not competent judges of the conduct of each other. Our 
whole nature leads us to ascribe all moial perfection to God, 
and to deny all imperfection of him. And this will for ever 
be a practical proof of his moral character, to such as will 
consider what a practical proof is ; because it is the voice of 
God speaking in us. And from hence we conclude, that 
virtue must be the happiness, and vice the misery, of every 
creature; and that regularity and order and right cannot but 
prevail finally in a universe under his government. But we 
are in no sort judges, what are the necessary means of accom- 
plishing this end. 



Introduction. 



57 



Let us then, instead of that idle and not very innocent 
employment of forming imaginary models of a world, and 
schemes of governing it, turn our thoughts to what we expe- 
rience to be the conduct of Nature with respect to intelligent 
creatures ; which may be resolved into general laws or rules 
of administration^ in the same way as many of the laws of 
Nature respecting inanimate matter may be collected from 
experiments. And let us compare the known constitution 
and course of things with what is said to be the moral sys- 
tem of Nature; the acknowledged dispensations of Provi- 
dence, or that government which we find ourselves under, 
with what religion teaches us to believe and expect; and see 
whether they are not analogous and of a piece. And upon 
such a comparison it will, I think, be found, that they are 
very much so: that both may be traced up to the same ge- 
neral laws, and resolved into the same principles of divine 
conduct. 

The analogy here proposed to be considered is of pretty 
large extent, and consists of several parts ; in some, more, in 
others, less, exact. In some few instances perhaps it may 
amount to a real practical proof; in others not so. Yet in 
these it is a confirmation of what is proved other ways. It 
will undeniably shew, what too many want to have shewn 
them, that the system of Religion, both natural and revealed, 
considered only as a system, and prior to the proof of it, is 
not a subject of ridicule, unless that of Nature be so too. 
And it will afford an answer to almost all objections against 
the system both of natural and revealed Religion ; though 
not perhaps an answer in so great a degree, yet in a very 
considerable degree an answer to the objections against the 
evidence of it : for objections against a proof, and objections 
against what is said to be proved, the reader will observe are 
different things. 

Now the divine government of the world, implied in the 
notion of religion hi general and of Christianity, contains in 
it ; that mankind is appointed to live in a future state ;* that 
there every one shall be rewarded or punished ;f rewarded 
or punished respectively for all that behaviour here, W'hich 
we comprehend under the words, virtuous or vicious, mo- 
rally good or evil :J that our present life is a probation, a 
state of trial,§ and of discipline, || for that future one; not- 
withstanding the objections, which men may fancy they have, 

* Ch. i. f Ch. ii. % Ch. iii. § Ch. iv. || Ch. v. 



58 



Introduction. 



from notions of Necessity, against there being any such moral 
plan as this at all ; # and whatever objections may appear to 
lie against the wisdom and goodness of it, as it stands so im- 
perfectly made known to us at present :f that this world 
being in a state of apostasy and wickedness, and conse- 
quently of ruin, and the sense both of their condition and 
duty being greatly corrupted amongst men, this gave occa- 
sion for an additional dispensation of Providence ; of the ut- 
most importance ;J proved by miracles ;§ but containing 
in it many things appearing to us strange, and not to have 
been expected ;f| a dispensation of Providence, which is a 
scheme or system of things ;^[ carried on by the mediation 
of a divine person, the Messiah, in order to the recovery of 
the world ;* # yet not revealed to all men, nor proved with 
the strongest possible evidence to all those to whom it is re- 
vealed ; but only to such a part of mankind, and with such 
particular evidence, as the wisdom of God thought fit.ff The 
design then of the following Treatise will be to shew, that 
the several parts principally objected against in this moral 
and Christian dispensation, including its scheme, its publi- 
cation, and the proof which God has afforded us of its truth; 
that the particular parts principally objected against in this 
whole dispensation, are analogous to what is experienced in 
the constitution and course of Nature, or Providence; that 
the chief objections themselves which are alleged against the 
former, are no other than what may be alleged with like just- 
ness against the latter, where they are found in fact to be in- 
conclusive; and that this argument from analogy is in general 
unanswerable, and undoubtedly of weight on the side of re- 
ligion,^ notwithstanding the objections which may seem to 
lie against it, and the real ground which there may be for dif- 
ference of opinion, as to the particular degree of weight which 
is to be laid upon it. This is a general account of what 
may be looked for in the following Treatise. And I shall 
begin it with that which is the foundation of all our hopes 
and of all our fears ; all our hopes and fears, which are of 
any consideration ; I mean a Future Life. 

* Ch. vi. f Ch. vii. \ Part II. Ch. i. § Ch. ii. || Ch. iii. 
If Ch. iv. ** Ch. v. -ft Ch. vi. vii. It Ch. viii. 



THE 

ANALOGY OF RELIGION. 



PART I. 

OF NATURAL RELIGION. 



CHAP. I. 

Of a Future Life. 

Strange difficulties have been raised by some concerning 
personal identity, or the sameness of living agents, implied 
in the notion of our existing now and hereafter, or in any two 
successive moments; which whoever thinks it worth while, 
may see considered in the first Dissertation at the end of this 
Treatise. But without regard to .any of them here, let us 
consider what the analogy of nature, and the several changes 
which we have undergone, and those which we know we 
may undergo without being destroyed, suggest, as to the 
effect which death may, or may not, have upon us ; and whe- 
ther it be not from thence probable, that we may survive this 
change, and exist in a future state of life and perception. 

I. From our being born into the present world in the 
helpless imperfect state of infancy, and having arrived from 
thence to mature age, we find it to be a general law of nature 
in our own species, that the same creatures, the same indi- 
viduals, should exist in degrees of life and perception, with 
capacities of action, of enjoyment and suffering, in one period 
of their being, greatly different from those appointed them in 
another period of it. And in other creatures the same law 
holds. For the difference of their capacities and states of 
life at their birth (to go no higher) and in maturity ; the 
change of worms into flies, and the vast enlargement of their 
locomotive powers by such change : and birds and insects 
bursting the shell their habitation, and by this means entering 
into a new world, furnished with new accommodations for 
them, and finding a new sphere of action assigned them ; 



GO 



Of a Future Life. 



PART I. 



these are instances of this general law of nature. Thus all 
the various and wonderful transformations of animals are to 
be taken into consideration here. But the states of life in 
which we ourselves existed formerly in the womb and in our 
infancy, are almost as different from our present in mature 
age, as it is possible to conceive any two states or degrees of 
life can be. Therefore that we are to exist hereafter, in a 
state as different (suppose) from our present, as this is from 
our former, is but according to the analogy of nature ; ac- 
cording to a natural order or appointment of the very same 
kind, with what we have already experienced. 

II. We know we are endued with capacities of action, of 
happiness and misery : for we are conscious of acting, of 
enjoying pleasure and suffering pain. Now that we have 
these powers and capacities before death, is a presumption 
that we shall retain them through and after death ; indeed a 
probability of it abundantly sufficient to act upon, unless 
there be some positive reason to think that death is the de- 
struction of those living powers : because there is in every 
case a probability, that all things will continue as we expe- 
rience they are, in all respects, except those in which we 
have some reason to think they will be altered. This is that 
kind* of presumption or probability from analogy, expressed 
in the very word continuance, which seems our only natural 
reason for believing the course of the world will continue to- 
morrow, as it has done so far as our experience or knowledge 
of history can carry us back. Nay it seems our only reason 
for believing, that any one substance now existing will con- 
tinue to exist a moment longer ; the self-existent substance 
only excepted. Thus if men were assured that the unknown 
event, death, was not the destruction of our faculties of per- 
ception and of action, there would be no apprehension, that 
any other power or event, unconnected with this of death, 
would destroy these faculties just at the instant of each crea- 
ture's death ; and therefore no doubt but that they would 
remain after it: which shews the high probability that our 
living powers will continue after death, unless there be some 
ground to think that death is their destruction, j" For, if it 

* I say kind of presumption or probability; for I do not mean to affirm 
that there is the same degree of conviction, that our living powers will 
continue after death, as there is, that our substances will. 

f Destruction of living powers, is a manner of expression unavoidably 
ambiguous; and may signify either the destruction of a living being, so as 
that the same li\ ing being shall be uncapable of ever perceiving or acting again 



chap. ,i. Of a Future Life. 61 

would be in a manner certain that we should survive death, 
provided it were certain that death would not be our de- 
struction, it must be highly probable we shall survive it, if 
there be no ground to think death will be our destruction. 

Now though I think it must be acknowledged, that prior 
to the natural and moral proofs of a future life commonly in- 
sisted upon, there would arise a general confused suspicion, 
that in the great shock and alteration which we shall undergo 
by death we, i.e. our living powers, might be wholly de- 
stroyed ; yet even prior to those proofs, there is really no 
particular distinct ground or reason for this apprehension at 
all, so far as I can find. If there be, it must arise either from 
the reason of the thing, or from the analogy of nature. 

But we cannot argue from the reason of the thing, that 
death is the destruction of living agents, because we know 
not at all what death is in itself ; but only some of its effects, 
such as the dissolution of flesh, skin, and bones. And these 
effects do in no wise appear to imply the destruction of a 
living agent. And besides, as we are greatly in the dark, 
upon what the exercise of our living powers depends, so we 
are wholly ignorant what the powers themselves depend 
upon ; the powers themselves as distinguished, not only from 
their actual exercise, but also from the present capacity of 
exercising them ; and as opposed to their destruction : for 
sleep, or however a swoon, shews us, not only that these 
powers exist when they are not exercised, as the passive 
power of motion does in inanimate matter ; but shews also 
that they exist, when there is no present capacity of exer- 
cising them : or that the capacities of exercising them for the 
present, as well as the actual exercise of them, may be sus- 
pended, and yet the powers themselves remain undestroyed. 
Since then we know not at all upon what the existence of 
our living powers depends, this shews further, there can no 
probability be collected from the reason of the thing, that 
death will be their destruction : because their existence may 
depend, upon somewhat in no degree affected by death ; upon 

at all ; or the destruction of those means and instruments by which it is capa- 
ble of its present life, of its present state of -perception and of action. It is 
here used in the former sense. When it is used in the latter, the epithet 
present is added. The loss of a man's eye is a destruction of living powers 
in the latter sense. But we have no reason to think the destruction of 
living powers, in the former sense, to be possible. We have no more 
reason to think a being endued with living powers, ever loses them during 
its whole existence, than to believe that a stone ever acquires them. 



62 



Of a Future Life. 



part r. 



somewhat quite out of the reach of this king of terrors. So 
that there is nothing more certain, than that the reason of 
the thing shews us no connexion between death, and the 
destruction of living agents. Nor can we find any thing 
throughout the whole analogy of nature, to afford us even 
the slightest presumption, that animals ever lose their living 
powers ; much less if it were possible, that they lose them 
by death : for we have no faculties wherewith to trace any 
beyond or through it, so as to see what becomes of them. 
This event removes them from our view. It destroys the 
sensible proof, which we had before their death, of their being 
possessed of living powers, but does not appear to afford the 
least reason to believe that they are, then, or by that event, 
deprived of them. 

And our knowing, that they were possessed of these 
powers, up to the very period to which we have faculties 
capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their 
retaining them, beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a 
sensible credibility is given to it, by observing the very great 
and astonishing changes which we have experienced ; so 
great, that our existence in another state of life, of percep- 
tion and of action, will be but according to a method of 
providential conduct, the like to which has been already 
exercised even with regard to ourselves ; according to a 
course of nature, the like to which we have already gone 
through. 

However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how diffi- 
cult it is to silence imagination enough to make the voice 
of reason even distinctly heard in this case ; as we are accus- 
tomed, from our youth up, to indulge that forward delusive 
faculty, ever obtruding beyond its sphere; of some assistance 
indeed to apprehension, but the author of all error : as we 
plainly lose ourselves in gross and crude conceptions of 
things, taking for granted that we are acquainted with, what 
indeed we are wholly ignorant of : it may be proper to con- 
sider the imaginary presumptions, that death will be our 
destruction, arising from these kinds of early and lasting 
prejudices ; and to shew how little they can really amount 
to, even though we cannot wholly divest ourselves of them. 
And, 

I. All presumption of death's being the destruction of 
living beings, must go upon supposition that they are com- 
pounded ; and so, discerptible. But since consciousness is 



CHAP. I. 



Of a Future Life. 



63 



a single and indivisible power, it should seem that the sub- 
ject in which it resides must be so too. For were the motion 
of any particle of matter absolutely one and indivisible, so 
as that it should imply a contradiction to suppose part of 
this motion to exist, and part not to exist, i. e, part of this 
matter to move, and part to be at rest ; then its power of 
motion would be indivisible ; and so also would the subject 
in which the power inheres, namely, the particle of matter : 
for if this could be divided into two, one part might be 
moved and the other at rest, which is contrary to the sup- 
position. In like manner it has been argued,* and, for any 
thing appearing to the contrary, justly, that since the percep- 
tion. or consciousness, which we have of our own existence, 
is indivisible, so as that it is a contradiction to suppose one 
part of it should be here and the other there ; the perceptive 
power, or the power of consciousness, is indivisible too : 
and consequently the subject in which it resides ; i. e. the 
conscious Being. Now upon supposition that living agent 
each man calls himself, is thus a single being, which there 
is at least no more difficulty in conceiving than in conceiving- 
it to be a compound, and of which there is the proof now 
mentioned; it follows, that our organized bodies are no more 
ourselves or part of ourselves, than any other matter around 
us. And it is as easy to conceive, how matter, which is no 
part of ourselves, may be appropriated to us in the manner 
which our present bodies are ; as how we can receive im- 
pressions from 5 and have power over any matter. It is as 
easy to conceive, that we may exist out of bodies, as in them; 
that we might have animated bodies of any other organs and 
senses wholly different from these now given us, and that 
we may hereafter animate these same or new bodies variously 
modified and organized ; as to conceive how we can animate 
such bodies as our present. And lastly, the dissolution of 
all these several organized bodies, supposing ourselves to 
have successively animated them, would have no more con- 
ceivable tendency to destroy the living beings ourselves, or 
deprive us of living faculties, the faculties of perception and 
of action, than the dissolution of any foreign matter, which 
we are capable of receiving impressions from, and making- 
use of for the common occasions of life. 

II. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living agent 
cannot indeed, from the nature of the thing, be properly 
* See Dr. Clarke's Letter to Mr. Dodwell, and the defences of it. 



64 



Of a Future Life. 



PART I. 



proved by experimental observations. But as these fall in 
with the supposition of its unity, so they plainly lead us to 
conclude certainly, that our gross organized bodies, with 
which we perceive the objects of sense, and with which we 
act, are no part of ourselves ; and therefore shew us, that we 
have no reason to believe their destruction to be ours : even 
without determining whether our living substances be mate- 
rial or immaterial. For we see by experience, that men may 
lose their limbs, their organs of sense, and even the greatest 
part of these bodies, and yet remain the same living agents. 
And persons can trace up the existence of themselves to a 
time, when the bulk of their bodies was extremely small, in 
comparison of what it is in mature age : and we cannot but 
think, that they might then have lost a considerable part of 
that small body, and yet have remained the same living 
agents ; as they may now lose great part of their present 
body, and remain so. And it is certain, that the bodies of 
all animals are in a constant flux, from that never-ceasing 
attrition, which there is in every part of them. Now things 
of this kind unavoidably teach us to distinguish, between 
these living agents ourselves, and large quantities of matter, 
in which we are very nearly interested : since these may be 
alienated, and actually are in a daily course of succession, 
and changing their owners ; whilst we are assured, that each 
living agent remains one and the same permanent being.* 
And this general observation leads us on to the follow- 
ing ones. 

First, That we have no way of determining by experience, 
what is the certain bulk of the living being each man calls 
himself : and yet, till it be determined that it is larger in bulk 
than the solid elementary particles of matter, which there 
is no ground to think any natural power can dissolve, there 
is no sort of reason to think death to be the dissolution of it, 
of the living being, even though it should not be absolutely 
indiscerptible. 

Secondly, From our being so nearly related to and inte- 
rested in certain systems of matter, suppose our flesh and 
bones, and afterwards ceasing to be at all related to them, 
the living agents ourselves remaining all this while unde- 
stroyed notwithstanding such alienation ; and consequently 
these systems of matter not being ourselves : it follows fur- 
ther, that we have no ground to conclude any other, suppose 
* See Dissertation I. 



oh a p. i. Of a Future Lift. 65 

internal systems of matter, to be the living agents our- 
selves ; because we can have no ground to conclude this, 
but from our relation to and interest in such other systems 
of matter : and therefore we can have no reason to conclude, 
what befals those systems of matter at death, to be the de- 
struction of the living agents. We have already several 
times over lost a great part or perhaps the whole of our 
body, according to certain common established laws of na- 
ture ; yet we remain the same living agents : when we shall 
lose as great a part, or the whole, by another common esta- 
blished law of nature, death ; why may .we not also remain 
the same ? That the alienation has been gradual in one case, 
and in the other will be more at once, does not prove any 
thing to the contrary. We have passed undestroyed through 
those many and great revolutions of matter, so peculiarly 
appropriated to us ourselves ; why should we imagine death 
will be so fatal to us? Nor can it be objected, that what is 
thus alienated or lost, is no part of our original solid body, 
but only adventitious matter ; because we may lose entire 
limbs, which must have contained many solid parts and ves- 
sels of the original body; or if this be not admitted, we have 
no proof, that any of these solid parts are dissolved or alien- 
ated by death. Though, by the way, we are very nearly 
related to that extraneous or adventitious matter, whilst it 
continues united to and distending the several parts of our 
solid body. But after all ; the relation a person bears to 
those parts of his body, to which he is the most nearly re- 
lated ; what does it appear to amount to but this, that the 
living agent, and those parts of the body, mutually affect 
each other? And the same thing, the same thing in kind 
though not in degree, may be said of all foreign matter, 
which gives us ideas, and which we have any power over. 
From these observations the whole ground of the imagina- 
tion is removed, that the dissolution of any matter, is the de- 
struction of a living agent, from the interest he once had in 
such matter. 

Thirdly, If we consider our body somewhat more dis- 
tinctly, as made up of organs and instruments of perception 
and of motion, it will bring us to the same conclusion. 
Thus the common optical experiments shew, and even the 
observation how sight is assisted by glasses shews, that we 
see with our eyes in the same sense as we see with glasses. 
Nor is there any reason to believe, that we see with them in 

E 



66 



Of a Future Life. 



PART I. 



any other sense ; any other, I mean, which would lead us to 
think the eye itself a percipient. The like is to be said of 
hearing : and our feeling distant solid matter by means of 
somewhat in our hand, seems an instance of the like kind, 
as to the subject we are considering. All these are instances 
of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our body, being 
instrumental in preparing objects for, and conveying them 
to, the perceiving power, in a manner similar or like to the 
manner in which our organs of sense prepare and convey 
them. Both are in a like way instruments of our receiving- 
such ideas from external objects, as the Author of nature ap- 
pointed those external objects to be the occasions of exciting 
in us. However, glasses are evidently instances of this ; 
namely of matter which is no part of our body, preparing 
objects for and conveying them towards the perceiving power, 
in like manner as our bodily organs do. And if we see with 
our eyes only in the same manner as we do with glasses, the 
like may justly be concluded, from analogy, of all our other 
senses. It is not intended, by any thing here said, to affirm, 
that the whole apparatus of vision, or of perception by any 
other of our senses, can be traced through all its steps, quite 
up to the living power of seeing, or perceiving : but that so 
far as it can be traced by experimental observations, so far it 
appears, that our organs of sense prepare and convey on 
objects, in order to their *being perceived, in like manner as 
foreign matter does, without affording any shadow of ap- 
pearance, that they themselves perceive. And that we have 
no reason to think our organs of sense percipients, is con- 
firmed by instances of persons losing some of them, the 
living beings themselves, their former occupiers, remaining 
unimpaired. It is confirmed also by the experience of 
dreams ; by which we find we are at present possessed of a 
latent, and what would, otherwise be, an unimagined un- 
known power of perceiving sensible objects, in as strong 
and lively a manner without our external organs of sense as 
with them. 

So also with regard to our power of moving, or directing 
motion by will and choice ; upon the destruction of a limb, 
this active power remains, as it evidently seems, unlessened ; 
so as that the living being, who has suffered this loss, would 
be capable of moving as before, if it had another limb to 
move with. It can walk by the help of an artificial leg ; 
just as it can make use of a pole or a lever, to reach towards 



CHAP. I. 



Of a Future Life. 



67 



itself and to move things, beyond the length and the power 
of its natural arm : and this last it does in the same manner 
as it reaches and moves, with its natural arm, things nearer 
and of less weight. Nor is there so much as any appear- 
ance of our limbs being endued with a power of moving ot- 
directing themselves ; though they are adapted, like the 
several parts of a machine, to be the instruments of motion 
to each other ; and some parts of the same limb, to be in- 
struments of motion to other parts of it. 

Thus a man determines, that he will look at such an ob- 
ject through a microscope ; or being lame suppose, that he 
will walk to such a place with a staff a week hence. His 
eyes and his feet no more determine in these cases, than the 
microscope and the staff. Nor is there any ground to think 
they any more put the determination in practice ; or that his 
eyes are the seers or his feet the movers, in any other sense 
than as the microscope and the staff are. Upon the whole 
then our organs of sense and our limbs are certainly instru- 
ments, which the living persons ourselves make use of to 
perceive and move with : there is not any probability, that 
they are any more ; nor consequently, that we have any other 
kind of relation to them, than what we have to any other 
foreign matter formed into instruments of perception and 
motion, suppose into a microscope or a staff (I say any 
other kind of relation, for I am not speaking of the degree of 
^it); nor consequently is there any probability, that the 
alienation or dissolution of these instruments is the destruc- 
tion of the perceiving and moving agent. 

And thus our finding, that the dissolution of matter, in 
which living beings were most nearly interested, is not 
their dissolution ; and that the destruction of several of 
the organs and instruments of perception and of motion 
belonging to them, is not their destruction ; shews de- 
monstratively, that there is no ground to think that the 
dissolution of any other matter, or destruction of any other 
organs and instruments, will be the dissolution or destruc- 
tion of living agents, from the like kind of relation. 
And we have no reason to think we stand in any other 
kind of relation to any thing which we find dissolved by 
death. 

But it is said these observations are equally applicable to 
brutes: and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that they 
should be immortal, and by consequence capable of everiast- 

e 2 



68 Of a Future Life. part i. 

ing happiness. Now this manner of expression is both in- 
vidious and weak : but the thing intended by it, is really no 
difficulty at all, either in the way of natural or moral consi- 
deration. For 1st, Suppose the invidious thing, designed in 
such a manner of expression, were really implied, as it is not 
in the least, in the natural immortality of brutes ; namely, 
that they must arrive at great attainments, and become ra- 
tional and moral agents; even this would be no difficulty: 
since we know not what latent powers and capacities they 
may be endued with. There was once, prior to experience, 
as great presumption against human creatures, as there is 
against the brute creatures, arriving at that degree of under- 
standing, which we have in mature age. For we can trace 
up our own existence to the same original with theirs. And 
we find it to be a general law of nature, that creatures endued 
with capacities of virtue and religion should be placed in a 
condition of being, in which they are altogether without the 
use of them, for a considerable length of their duration ; as 
in infancy and childhood. And great part of the human 
species go out of the present world, before they come to the 
exercise of these capacities in any degree at all. But then, 
2dly, the natural immortality of brutes does not in the least 
imply, that they are endued with any latent capacities of a 
rational or moral nature. And the economy of the universe 
might require, that there should be living creatures without 
any capacities of this kind. And all difficulties as to the 
manner how they are to be disposed of are so apparently and 
wholly founded in our ignorance, that it is wonderful they 
should be insisted upon by any, but such as are weak enough 
to think they are acquainted with the whole system of things. 
There is then absolutely nothing at all in this objection, 
which is so rhetorically urged, against the greatest part of 
the natural proofs or presumptions of the immortality of 
human minds : I say the greatest part ; for it is less appli- 
cable to the following observation, which is more peculiar 
to mankind : 

III. That as it is evident our present powers and capacities 
of reason, memory, and affection, do not depend upon our 
gross body in the manner in which perception by our organs 
of sense does; so they do not appear to depend upon it at 
all in any such manner, as to give ground to think, that the 
dissolution of this body will be the destruction of these our 
present powers of reflection, as it will of our powers of sen- 



chap. i. Of a Future Life, 69 

sation; or to give ground to conclude, even that it will be 
so much as a suspension of the former. 

Human creatures exist at present in two states of life and 
perception, greatly different from each other; each of which 
has its own peculiar laws, and its own peculiar enjoyments 
and sufferings. When any of our senses are affected or 
appetites gratified with the objects of them, we may be said 
to exist or live in a state of sensation. When none of our 
senses are affected or appetites gratified, and yet we per- 
ceive, and reason, and act; we may be said to exist or live 
in a state of reflection. Now it is by no means certain, that 
any thing which is dissolved by death, is any way necessary 
to the living being in this its state of reflection, after ideas 
are gained. For, though, from our present constitution and 
condition of being, our external organs of sense are necessary 
for conveying in ideas to our reflecting powers, as carriages, 
and levers, and scaffolds are in architecture : yet when these 
ideas are brought in, we are capable of reflecting in the 
most intense degree, and of enjoying the greatest pleasure, 
and feeling the greatest pain, by means of that reflection, 
without any assistance from our senses ; and without any at 
all, which we know of, from that body which will be dis- 
solved by death. It does not appear then, that the relation 
of this gross body to the reflecting being is, in any degree, 
necessary to thinking; to our intellectual enjoyments or suf- 
ferings : nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation 
of the former by death, will be the destruction of those pre- 
sent powers, which render us capable of this state of reflec- 
tion. Further, there are instances of mortal diseases, which 
do not at all affect our present intellectual powers; and this 
affords a presumption, that those diseases will not destroy 
these present powers. Indeed, from the observations made 
above,* it appears, that there is no presumption, from their 
mutually affecting each other, that the dissolution of the 
body is the destruction of the living agent. And by the 
same reasoning, it must appear too, that there is no pre- 
sumption, from their mutually affecting each other, that 
the dissolution of the body is the destruction of our pre- 
sent reflecting powers: but instances of their not affecting- 
each other, afford a presumption of the contrary. Instances 
of mortal diseases not impairing our present reflecting 
powers, evidently turn our thoughts even from imagining 

* P. 64, 65. 



70 



Of a Future Life. 



PART I. 



such diseases to be the destruction of them. Several things 
indeed greatly affect all our living powers, and at length 
suspend the exercise of them; as for instance drowsiness, 
increasing till it ends in sound sleep: and from hence we 
might have imagined it would destroy them, till we found 
by experience the weakness of this way of judging. But in 
the diseases now mentioned, there is not so much as this 
shadow of probability, to lead us to any such conclusion, as 
to the reflecting powers which we have at present. For in 
those diseases, persons the moment before death appear to 
be in the highest vigour of life. They discover apprehension, 
memory, reason, all entire; with the utmost force of affection; 
sense of a character, of shame and honour; and the highest 
mental enjoyments and sufferings, even to the last gasp: 
and these surely prove even greater vigour of life than bodily 
strength does. Now what pretence is there for thinking, 
that a progressive disease when arrived to such a degree, I 
mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy those powers, 
which were not impaired, which were not affected by it, dur- 
ing its whole progress quite up to that degree? And if death 
by diseases of this kind is not the destruction of our present 
reflecting powers, it will scarce be thought that death by any 
other means is. 

It is obvious that this general observation may be carried 
on further: and there appears so little connexion between 
our bodily powers of sensation, and our present powers of 
reflection, that there is no reason to conclude, that death, 
which destroys the former, does so much as suspend the 
exercise of the latter, or interrupt our continuing to exist in 
the like state of reflection which we do now. For suspension 
of reason, memory, and the affections which they excite, is 
no part of the idea of death, nor is implied in our notion of 
it. And our daily experiencing these powers to be exercised, 
without any assistance, that we know of, from those bodies, 
which will be dissolved by death; and our finding often, 
that the exercise of them is so lively to the last; these things 
afford a sensible apprehension, that death may not perhaps 
be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise of these 
powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which it im- 
plies.* So that our posthumous life, whatever there may 

( * There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life, here con- 
sidered: Whether death be the destruction of living agents; if not, 
Whether it be the destruction of their present powers of reflection, as it 



chap. i. Of a Future Life, 71 

i be in it additional to our present, yet may not be entirely 
beginning anew; but going on. Death may, in some sort, 
and in some respects, answer to our birth ; which is not a 

I suspension of the faculties which we had before it, or a total 
change of the state of life in which we existed when in the 
womb; but a continuation of both, with such and suchgreat 

i j alterations. 

Nay, for ought we know of ourselves, of our present life 
and of death; death may immediately, in the natural course 
of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged state of 
life, as our birth does;* a state in which our capacities, and 
sphere of perception and of action, may be much greater 
than at present. For as our relation to our external organs 
of sense, renders us capable of existing in our present state 
of sensation; so it may be the only natural hindrance to our 
existing, immediately, and of course, in a higher state of re- 
flection. The truth is, reason does not at all shew us, in what 
state death naturally leaves us. But were we sure, that it 
would suspend all our perceptive and active powers ; yet the 
suspension of a power and the destruction of it, are effects 
so totally different in kind, as we experience from sleep and 
a swoon, that we cannot in any wise argue from one to the 
other; or conclude even to the lowest degree of probability, 
that the same kind of force which is sufficient to suspend 
our faculties, though it be increased ever so much, will be 
sufficient to destroy them. 

These observations together may be sufficient to shew, 
how little presumption there is, that death is the destruction 
°of human creatures. However, there is the shadow of an 
analogy, which may lead us to imagine it is the supposed 
likeness which is observed between the decay of vegetables, 
and of living creatures. And this likeness is indeed sufficient 
to afford the poets very apt allusions to the flowers of the field, 

certainly is the destruction of their present powers of sensation ; and if 
not, Whether it be the suspension, or discontinuance of the exercise, of 
these present reflecting powers. Now, if there be no reason to believe 
the last, there will be, if that were possible, less for the next, and less 
still for the first. 

* This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brachmans, vo/i'ifciv 
fiev ydp dr) tov fJtkv evSade /3tW, ojq av dKfxrjv Kuofiet'iov uvac tov c)£ Savarov, 
ykvEaiv eIq tov ovtojq filop, kcu tov Evcjat/uova to~iq ^CKoao^ijaao-L" Lib. xv. 
p. 1039. Ed. Amst. 1707. To which opinion perhaps Antoninus may 
allude in these words, we vvv irtpifiEvEig, ttote Ejjifipvov eic ti~]q yaaTpbg rf/e 

yVVCLLKOQ (TOV E^eMty, OVTOJQ EK^€J(£IT^aL TY}V &p<XV EV | TO ^pV^CipiOV (TOV TOV 

eXvTpov tovtov E\cirzaE~iTai. Lib. ix. C 3. 



72 



Of a Future Life. 



PART 1. 



in their pictures of the frailty of our present life. But in rea- 
son, the analogy is so far from holding, that there appears 
no ground even for the comparison, as to the present ques- 
tion ; because one of the two subjects compared is wholly 
void of that, which is the principal and chief thing in the 
other, the power of perception and of action ; and which is 
the only thing we are inquiring about the continuance o£ 
So that the destruction of a vegetable, is an event not similar 
or analogous to the destruction of a living agent. 

But if, as was above intimated, leaving off the delusive 
custom of substituting imagination in the room of experience, 
we would confine ourselves to what we do know and under- 
stand ; if we would argue only from that, and from that form 
our expectations ; it would appear at first sight, that as no 
probability of living beings ever ceasing to be so, can be 
concluded from the reason of the thing ; so none can be col- 
lected from the analogy of Nature ; because we cannot trace 
any living beings beyond death. But as we are conscious 
that we are endued with capacities of perception and of ac- 
tion, and are living persons ; what we are to go upon is, that 
we shall continue so, till we foresee some accident or event, 
which will endanger those capacities, or be likely to destroy 
us : which death does in no wise appear to be. 

And thus, when we go out of this world, we may pass into new 
scenes, and a new state of life and action, just as naturally as we 
came into the present. And this new state may naturally be a 
social one. And the advantages of it, advantages of every kind, 
may naturally be bestowed, according to some fixed general 
laws of wisdom, upon every one in proportion to the degrees 
of his virtue. And though the advantages of that future na- 
tural state should not be bestowed, as these of the present in 
some measure are, by the will of the society ; but entirely by 
his more immediate action, upon whom the whole frame of 
nature depends : yet this distribution may be just as natural, 
as their being distributed here by the instrumentality of men. 
And indeed, though one were to allow any confused unde- 
termined sense, which people please to put upon the word 
natural, it would be a shortness of thought scarce credible, 
to imagine, that no system or course of things can be so, but 
only what we see at present :* especially whilst the probabi- 
lity of a future life, or the natural immortality of the soul, is 
admitted upon the evidence of reason; because this is really 
* See Part II. Chap. ii. and Part II. Chap. iv. 



CHAP. I. 



Of a Future Life. 



73 



both admitting and denying at once, a state of being different 
from the present to be natural. But the only distinct mean- 
ing of that word is, stated, fixed, or settled : since what is 
natural, as much requires and presupposes an intelligent 
agent to render it so, L e. to effect it continually, or at stated 
times ; as what is supernatural or miraculous does to effect it 
for once. And from hence it must follow, that persons' no- 
tion of what is natural, will be enlarged in proportion to their 
greater knowledge of the works of God, and the dispensa- 
tions of his Providence. Nor is there any absurdity in sup- 
posing, that there may be beings in the universe, whose ca- 
pacities, and knowledge, and views, may be so extensive, as 
that the whole Christian dispensation may to them appear 
natural, i. e. analogous or conformable to God's dealings with 
other parts of his creation ; as natural as the visible known 
course of things appears to us. For there seems scarce any 
other possible sense to be put upon the word, but that only 
m ; which it is here used ; similar, stated, or uniform. 

This credibility of a future life, which has been here in- 
sisted upon, how little soever it may satisfy our curiosity, 
seems to answer all the purposes of religion, in like manner 
as a demonstrative proof would. Indeed a proof, even a de- 
monstrative one, of a future life, would not be a proof of re- 
ligion. For, that we are to live hereafter, is just as reconcile- 
able with the scheme of atheism, and as well to be accounted 
for by it, as that we are now alive is : and therefore nothing 
can be more absurd than to argue from that scheme, that 
there can be no future state. But as religion implies a future 
state, any presumption against such a state, is a presump- 
tion against religion. And the foregoing observations re- 
move all presumptions of that sort, and prove, to a very con- 
siderable degree of probability, one fundamental doctrine of 
religion; which, if believed, would greatly open and dispose 
the mind seriously to attend to the general evidence of the 
whole. 

CHAP. II. 

Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments ; 
and particularly of the latter. 

That which makes the question concerning a future life to 
be of so great importance to us, is our capacity of happiness 
and misery. And that which makes the consideration of it 



74 



Of the Government of God part i. 



to be of so great importance to us, is the supposition of 
our happiness and misery hereafter, depending upon our 
actions here. Without this indeed, curiosity could not but 
sometimes bring a subject, in which we may be so highly 
interested, to our thoughts ; especially upon the mortality of 
others, or the near prospect of our own. But reasonable 
men would nottake any further thought about hereafter, than 
what should happen thus occasionally to rise in their minds, 
if it were certain that our future interest no way depended 
upon our present behaviour : whereas on the contrary, if 
there be ground, either from analogy or any thing else, to 
think it does ; then there is reason also for the most active 
thought and solicitude, to secure that interest ; to behave so 
as that we may escape that misery, and obtain that happi- 
ness in another life, which we not only suppose ourselves 
capable of, but which we apprehend also is put in our own 
power. And whether there be ground for this last appre- 
hension, certainly would deserve to be most seriously con- 
sidered, were there no other proof of a future life and inte- 
rest, than that presumptive one, which the foregoing obser- 
vations amount to. 

Now in the present state, all which we enjoy, and a great 
part of what we suffer, is put in our own power, j For plea- 
sure and pain are the consequences of our actions : and we 
are endued by the Author of our Nature with capacities of 
foreseeing these consequences. We find by experience He 
does not so much as preserve our lives, exclusively of our 
own care and attention, to provide ourselves with, and to 
make use of, that sustenance, by which he has appointed our 
lives shall be preserved; and without which, he has ap- 
pointed, they shall not be preserved at all. And in general 
we foresee, that the external things, which are the objects of 
our various passions, can neither be obtained nor enjoyed, 
without exerting ourselves in such and such manners : but 
by thus exerting ourselves, we obtain and enjoy these objects, 
in which our natural good consists ; or by this means God 
gives us the possession and enjoyment of them. I know 
not, that we have any one kind or degree of enjoyment, 
but by the means of our own actions. And by prudence 
and care, we may, for the most part, pass our days in 
tolerable ease and quiet : or, on the contrary, we may, by 
rashness, ungoverned passion, wilfulness, or even by negli- 
gence, make ourselves as miserable as ever we please. And 



chap. ii. by Rewards and Punishments. 75 

many do please to make themselves extremely miserable, i. e. 
to do what they know beforehand will render them so. They 
follow those ways, the fruit of which they know, by instruc- 
tion, example, experience, will be disgrace, and poverty, and 
sickness, and untimely death. This every one observes to 
be the general course of things ; though it is to be allowed, 
we cannot find by experience, that all our sufferings are owing 
to our own follies. 

Why the Author of Nature does not give his creatures 
promiscuously such and such perceptions, without regard to 
their behaviour ; why he does not make them happy without 
the instrumentality of their own actions, and prevent their 
bringing any sufferings upon themselves ; is another matter. 
Perhaps there may be some impossibilities in the nature of 
things, which we are unacquainted with.* Or less happiness, 
it may be, would upon the whole be produced by such a 
method of conduct, than is by the present. Or perhaps 
divine goodness, with which, if I mistake not, we make very 
free in our speculations, may not be a bare single disposition 
to produce happiness ; but a disposition to make the good, 
the faithful, the honest man happy. Perhaps an infinitely 
perfect Mind may be pleased, with seeing his creatures 
behave suitably to the nature which he has given them ; to 
the relations which he has placed them in to each other ; 
and to that, which they stand in to himself: that relation to 
himself, which, during their existence, is even necessary, and 
which is the most important one of all: perhaps, I say, an 
infinitely perfect Mind may be pleased with this moral piety 
of moral agents, in and for itself ; as well as upon account of 
its being essentially conducive to the happiness of his crea- 
tion. Or the whole end, for which God made, and thus 
governs the world, may be utterly beyond the reach of our 
faculties : there may be somewhat in it as impossible for us 
to have any conception of, as for a blind man to have a con- 
ception of colours. But however this be, it is certain matter 
of universal experience, that the general method of divine 
administration is, forewarning us, or giving us capacities to 
foresee, with more or less clearness, that if we act so and so, 
we shall have such enjoyments, if so and so, such sufferings; 
and giving us those enjoyments, and making us feel those 
sufferings, in consequence of our actions. 

" But all this is to be ascribed to the general course of 
* Part l! chap, vii. 



76 



Of the Government of God part i* 



nature." True. This is the very thing which I am observ- 
ing. It is to be ascribed to the general course of nature : 
i.e. not surely to the words or ideas, course of nature; but 
to him who appointed it, and put things into it: or to a course 
of operation, from its uniformity or constancy, called natural f 
and which necessarily implies an operating agent. For 
when men find themselves necessitated to confess an Author 
of Nature, or that God is the natural governor of the world ; 
they must not deny this again, because his government is 
uniform ; they must not deny that he does things at all, be- 
cause he does them constantly ; because the effects of his 
acting are permanent, whether his acting be so or not; 
though there is no reason to think it is not. In short, every 
man, in every thing he does, naturally acts upon the fore- 
thought and apprehension of avoiding evil or obtaining 
good : and if the natural course of things be the appoint- 
ment of God, and our natural faculties of knowledge and 
experience are given us by him ; then the good and bad con- 
sequences which follow our actions, are his appointment, 
and our foresight of those consequences, is a warning given 
us by him, how we are to act. 

" Is the pleasure then, naturally accompanying every par- 
ticular gratification of passion, intended to put us upon gra- 
tifying ourselves in every such particular instance, and as a 
reward to us for so doing ?" No certainly. Nor is it to be 
said, that our eyes were naturally intended to give us the sight 
of each particular object, to which they do or can extend ; 
objects which are destructive of them, or which, for any other 
reason, it may become us to turn our eyes from. Yet there 
is no doubt, but that our eyes were intended for us to see 
with. , So neither is there any doubt, but that the foreseen 
pleasures and pains belonging to the passions, were intended, 
in general, to induce mankind to act in such and such 
manners. 

Now from this general observation, obvious to every one, 
that God has given us to understand, he has appointed satis- 
faction and delight to be the consequence of our acting in 
one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our acting in an- 
other, and of our not acting at all ; and that we find the con- 
sequences, which we were beforehand informed of, uniformly 
to follow ; we may learn, that we are at present actually 
under his government in the strictest and most proper sense; 

* P. 72. 



chat. ii. by Rewards and Punishments. 77 

in such a sense, as that he rewards and punishes us for our 
actions. An Author of Nature being supposed, it is not so 
much a deduction of reason, as a matter of experience, that 
we are thus under his government : under his government, 
in the same sense, as we are under the government of civil 
magistrates. Because the annexing pleasure to some actions, 
and pain to others, in our power to do or forbear, and giving 
notice of this appointment beforehand to those whom it con- 
cerns ; is the proper formal notion of government. Whether 
the pleasure or pain which thus follows upon our behaviour, 
be owing to the Author of Nature's acting upon us every 
moment which we feel it ; or to his having at once contrived 
and executed his own part in the plan of the world ; makes 
no alteration as to the matter before us. For if civil magis- 
trates could make the sanctions of their laws take place, with- 
out interposing at all, after they had passed them ; without a 
trial, and the formalities of an execution : if they were able 
to make their laws execute themselves, or every offender to 
execute them upon himself ; we should be just in the same 
sense under their government then, as we are now ; but in a 
much higher degree, and more perfect manner. Vain is the 
ridicule, with which one foresees, some persons will divert 
themselves, upon finding lesser pains considered as instances 
of divine punishment. There is no possibility of answering 
or evading the general thing here intended, without denying 
all final causes. For final causes being admitted, the plea- 
sures and pains now mentioned must be admitted too as in- 
stances of them. And if they are ; if God annexes delight 
to some actions, and uneasiness to others, with an apparent 
design to induce us to act so and so ; then he not only dis- 
penses happiness and misery, but also rewards and punishes 
actions. If, for example, the pain which we feel, upon doing 
what tends to the destruction of our bodies, suppose upon 
too near approaches to fire, or upon wounding ourselves, be 
appointed by the Author of Nature to prevent our doing 
what thus tends to our destruction ; this is altogether as much 
an instance of his punishing our actions, and consequently 
of our being under his government, as declaring by a voice 
from heaven, that if we acted so, he would inflict such pain 
upon us, and inflicting it, whether it be greater or less. 

Thus we find, that the true notion or conception of the 
Author of Nature, is that of a master or governor, prior to the 
consideration of his moral attributes. The fact of our case. 



78 



Of the Government of God 



PART I. 



which we find by experience, is, that he actually exercises 
dominion or government over us at present, by rewarding 
and punishing us for our actions, in as strict and proper a 
sense of these words, and even in the same sense, as children, 
servants, subjects, are rewarded and punished by those who 
govern them. 

And thus the whole analogy of Nature, the whole present 
course of things, most fully shews, that there is nothing in- 
credible in the general doctrine of religion, that God will 
reward and punish men for their actions hereafter: nothing* 
incredible, I mean, arising out of the notion of rewarding 
and punishing. For the whole course of nature is a present 
instance of his exercising that government over us, which 
implies in it rewarding and punishing. 

But as divine punishment is what men chiefly object 
against, and are most unwilling to allow; it may be proper 
to mention some circumstances in the natural course of punish- 
ments at present, which are analogous to what religion teaches 
us concerning a future state of punishment ; indeed so an- 
alogous, that as they add a farther credibility to it, so they 
cannot but raise a most serious apprehension of it in those 
who will attend to them. 

It has been now observed, that such and such miseries 
naturally follow such and such actions of imprudence and 
wilfulness, as well as actions more commonly and more dis- 
tinctly considered as vicious ; and that these consequences, 
when they may be foreseen, are properly natural punishments 
annexed to such actions. For the general thing here insisted 
upon, is, not that we see a great deal of misery in the world, 
but a great deal which men bring upon themselves by their 
own behaviour, which they might have foreseen and avoided. 
Now the circumstances of these natural punishments, particu- 
larly deserving our attention, are such as these ; That often- 
times they follow, or are inflicted in consequence of, actions, 
which procure many present advantages, and are accompa- 
nied with much present pleasure ; for instance, sickness and 
untimely death is the consequence of intemperance, though 
accompanied with the highest mirth and jollity : that these 
punishments are often much greater, than the advantages or 
pleasures obtained by the actions, of which they are the 
punishments or consequences : that though we may imagine 
a constitution of nature, in which these natural punishments, 



chap. it. by Punishments. 79 

which are in fact to follow, would follow, immediately upon 
such actions being done, or very soon after ; we find on the 
contrary in our world, that they are often delayed a great 
while, sometimes even till long after the actions occasioning 
them are forgot ; so that the constitution of nature is such, 
that delay of punishment is no sort nor degree of presumption 
of final impunity : that after such delay, these natural punish- 
ments or miseries often come, not by degrees, but suddenly, 
with violence, and at once ; however, the chief misery often 
does : that as certainty of such distant misery following such 
actions, is never afforded persons; so perhaps during the 
actions, they have seldom a distinct full expectation of its 
following :5 and many times the case is only thus, that they 
see in general, or may see, the credibility, that intemperance, 
suppose, will bring after it diseases ; civil crimes, civil punish- 
ments ; when yet the real probability often is, that they shall 
escape; but things notwithstanding take their destined course, 
and the misery inevitably follows at its appointed time, in 
very many of these cases. Thus also though youth may be 
alleged as an excuse for rashness and folly, as being naturally 
thoughtless, and not clearly foreseeing all the consequences 
of being untractable and profligate; this does not hinder, 
but that these consequences follow, and are grievously felt, 
throughout the whole course of mature life. Habits con- 
tracted even in that age, are often utter ruin : and men's suc- 
cess in the world, not only in the common sense of worldly 
success, but their real happiness and misery, depends, in a 
great degree, and in various ways, upon the manner in which 
they pass their youth ; which consequences they for the most 
part neglect to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly 
be said to believe, beforehand. It requires also to be men- 
tioned, that in numberless cases, the natural course of things 
affords us opportunities for procuring advantages to ourselves 
at certain times, which we cannot procure when we will ; 
nor ever recall the opportunities, if we have neglected them. 
Indeed the general course of nature is an example of this. 
If, during the opportunity of youth, persons are indocile 
and self-willed; they inevitably suffer in their future life, for 
want of those acquirements, which they neglected the natu- 
ral season of attaining. If the husbandman lets his seed- 
time pass without sowing, the whole year is lost to him be- 
yond recovery. In like manner, though after men have been 
* See Part II, Chap. vi\ 



80 



Of the Government of God 



PART r. 



guilty of folly and extravagance up to a certain degree, it is 
often in their power, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to 
recover their health and character ; at least in good measure : 
yet real reformation is, in many cases, of no avail at all 
towards preventing the miseries, poverty, sickness, infamy, 
naturally annexed to folly and extravagance exceeding that 
degree. There is a certain bound to imprudence and misbe- 
haviour, which being transgressed, there remains no place 
for repentance in the natural course of things. It is further 
very much to be remarked, that neglects from inconsiderate- 
ness, want of attention,* not looking about us to see what we 
have to do, are often attended with consequences altogether 
as dreadful, as any active misbehaviour, from the most ex- 
travagant passion. And lastly, civil government being na- 
tural, the punishments of it are so too : and some of these 
punishments are capital ; as the effects of a dissolute course 
of pleasure are often mortal. So that many natural punish- 
ments are flnalf to him, who incurs them, if considered only 
in his temporal capacity : and seem inflicted by natural ap- 
pointment, either to remove the offender out of the way of 
being further mischievous ; or as an example, though fre- 
quently a disregarded one, to those who are left behind. 

These things are not, what we call accidental, or to be 
met with only now and then ; but they are things of every 
day's experience : they proceed from general laws, very 

* Part II. Chap. vi. 
t The general consideration of a future state of punishment, most evi- 
dently belongs to the subject of natural Religion. But if any of these 
reflections should be thought to relate more peculiarly to this doctrine, as 
taught in Scripture ; the reader is desired to observe, that Gentile writers, 
both moralists and poets, speak of the future punishment of the wicked, 
both as to the duration and degree of it, in a like manner of expression 
and of description, as the Scripture does. So that all which can posi- 
tively be asserted to be matter of mere Revelation, with regard to this 
doctrine, seems to be, that the great distinction between the righteous 
and the wicked, shall be made at the end of this world ; that each shall 
then receive according to his deserts. Reason did, as it well might, con- 
clude that it should, finally and upon the whole, be well with the righte- 
ous, and ill with the wicked : but it could not be determined upon any 
principles of reason, whether human creatures might not have been ap- 
pointed to pass through other states of life and being, before that distri- 
butive justice should finally and effectually take place. Revelation teaches 
us, that the next state of things after the present is appointed for the exe- 
cution of this justice ; that it shall be no longer delayed ; but the mystery 
of God, the great mystery of his suffering vice and confusion to prevail,, 
shall then be finished ; and he will take to him his great power and will reign, 
by rendering to every one according to his works. 



chap. ii. by Punishments. 81 

general ones, by which God governs the world, in the na- 
tural course of his providence. And they are so analogous, 
to what Religion teaches us concerning the future punish- 
ment of the wicked, so much of a piece with it, that both 
would naturally be expressed in the very same words, and 
manner of description. In the book of Proverbs,* for in- 
stance, Wisdom is introduced, as frequenting the most public 
places of resort, and as rejected when she offers herself 
as the natural appointed guide of human life. How long, 
speaking to those who are passing through it, how long, ye 
simple ones, will ye love folly, and the scorners delight in their 
scorning, and fools hate knowledge? Turn ye at my reproof. 
Behold, I will pour out my spirit upon you, Ivjill make known 
my words unto you. But upon being neglected, Because I 
have called, and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand, 
and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, 
and would none of my reproof : I also will laugh at your ca- 
lamity, I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear 
cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirl- 
wind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall 
they call upon me, but I will not answer ; they shall seek me 
early, but they shall not find me. This passage, every one 
sees, is poetical, and some parts of it are highly figurative; but 
their meaning is obvious. And the thing intended is expressed 
more literally in the following words ; For that they hated 
knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord there- 
fore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled 
ivith their own devices. For the security of the simple shall 
slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. 
And the whole passage is so equally applicable, to what we 
experience in the present world, concerning the consequences 
of men's actions, and to what Religion teaches us is to be ex- 
pected in another, that it may be questioned which of the two 
was principally intended. 

Indeed when one has been recollecting the proper proofs 
of a future state of rewards and punishments, nothing methinks 
can give one so sensible an apprehension of the latter, or re- 
presentation of it to the mind ; as observing, that after the many 
disregarded checks, admonitions and warnings, which people 
meet with in the ways of vice and folly and extravagance; 
warnings from their very nature; from the examples of others ; 
from the lesser inconveniences which they bring upon them- 

* Chap. i. 

F 



82 Government of God by Punishments. part t. 

selves ; from the instructions of wise and virtuous men : after 
these have been long despised, scorned, ridiculed : after the 
chief bad consequences, temporal consequences, of their fol- 
lies, have been delayed for a great while ; at length they 
break in irresistibly, like an armed force : repentance is too 
late to relieve, and can serve only to aggravate their distress : 
the case is become desperate: and poverty and sickness, 
remorse and anguish, infam}^ and death, the effects of their 
own doings, overwhelm them, beyond possibility of remedy 
or escape. This is a*n account of what is in fact the general 
constitution of nature. 

It is not in any sort meant, that according to what appears 
at present of the natural course of things, men are always 
uniformly punished in proportion to their misbehaviour: but 
that there are very many instances of misbehaviour punished 
in the several ways now mentioned, and very dreadful in- 
stances too ; sufficient to shew what the laws of the universe 
may admit; and, if thoroughly considered, sufficient fully 
to answer all objections against the credibility of a future 
state of punishments, from any imaginations, that the frailty 
of our nature and external temptations, almost annihilate the 
guilt of human vices : as well as objections of another sort ; 
from necessity ; from suppositions, that the will of an infinite 
Being cannot be contradicted ; or that he must be incapable 
of offence and provocation.* 

Reflections of this kind are not without their terrors to 
serious persons, the most free from enthusiasm, and of the 
greatest strength of mind ; but it is fit things be stated and 
considered as they really are. And there is, in the present 
age, a certain fearlessness, with regard to what may be here- 
after under the government of God, which nothing but an 
universally acknowledged demonstration on the side of 
atheism can justify; and which makes it quite necessary, that 
men be reminded, and if possible made to feel, that there is 
no sort of ground for being thus presumptuous, even upon the 
most sceptical principles. For, may it not be said of any 
person upon his being born into the world, he may behave so, 
as to be of no service to it, but by being made an example 
of the woful effects of vice and folly? That he may, as any 
one may, if he will, incur an infamous execution, from the 
hands of civil justice ; or in some other course of extravagance 
shorten his days; or bring upon himself infamy and diseases 
* See Chap. iv. and vi. 



J I chap. in. Of the Moral Government of God. 83 

worse than death? So that it had been better for him, even 
with regard to the present world, that he had never been born. 
And is there any pretence of reason, for people to think them- 
selves secure, and talk as if they had certain proof, that, let 
them act as licentiously as they will, there can be nothing 
analogous to this, with regard to a future and more general in- 
terest, under the providence and government of the same God ? 

CHAP. III. 

Of the Moral Government of God. 

As the manifold appearances of design and of final causes, 
in the constitution of the world, prove it to be the work of 
an intelligent Mind ; so the particular final causes of pleasure 
and pain distributed amongst his creatures, prove that they 
are under his government ; what may be called his natural 
government of creatures endued with sense and reason. 
This, however, implies somewhat more than seems usually 
attended to, when we speak of God's natural government of 
the world. It implies government of the very same kind 
with that, which a master exercises over his servants, or a 
civil magistrate over his subjects. These latter instances of 
final causes, as really prove an intelligent Governor of the 
world, in the sense now mentioned, and before* distinctly 
treated of ; as any other instances of final causes prove an in- 
telligent Maker of it. 

But this alone does not appear at first sight to determine 
any thing certainly, concerning the moral character of the 
Author of Nature, considered in this relation of governor; 
does not ascertain his government to be moral, or prove that he 
is the righteous judge of the world. Moral government con- 
sists, not barely in rewarding and punishing men for their 
actions, which the most tyrannical person may do : but in 
rewarding the righteous, and punishing the wicked ; in render- 
ing to men according to their actions, considered as good or 
evil. And the perfection of moral government consists in 
doing this, with regard to all intelligent creatures, in an exact 
proportion to their personal merits or demerits. 

Some men seem to think the only character of the Author 
of Nature to be that of simple absolute benevolence. This, 
considered as a principle of action and infinite in degree, is 

*Chap..ii. 
y 2 



-84 Of the Moral part i. 

a disposition to produce the greatest possible happiness, with- 
out regard to persons' behaviour, otherwise than as such re- 
gard would produce higher degrees of it. And supposing 
this to be the only character of God, veracity and justice in 
him would be nothing but benevolence conducted by wisdom. 
Now surely this ought not to be asserted, unless it can be 
proved ; for we should speak with cautious reverence upon 
such a subject. And whether it can be proved or no, is not 
the thing here to be inquired into ; but whether in the consti- 
tution and conduct of the world, a righteous government be 
not discernibly planned out : which necessarily implies a 
righteous governor. There may possibly be in the creation, 
beings, to whom the Author of Nature manifests himself under 
this most amiable of all characters, this of infinite absolute 
benevolence; for it is the most amiable, supposing it not, as 
perhaps it is not, incompatible with justice : but he manifests 
himself to us under the character of a righteous governor, 
He may, consistently with this, be simply and absolutely be- 
nevolent, in the sense now explained : but he is, for he has 
given us a proof in the constitution and conduct of the world 
that he is, a governor over servants, as he rewards and punishes 
us for our actions. And in the constitution and conduct of it, 
he may also have given, besides the reason of the thing, and 
the natural presages of conscience, clear and distinct intima- 
tions, that his government is righteous or moral : clear to such 
as think the nature of it deserving their attention ; and yet 
not to every careless person, who casts a transient reflection 
upon the subject.* 

But it is particularly to be observed, that the divine govern- 
ment, which we experience ourselves under in the present 
state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfection of moral 
government. And yet this by no means hinders, but that 
there may be somewhat, be it more or less, truly moral in it. 
A righteous government may plainly appear to be carried on 
to some degree : enough to give us the apprehension that it 

* The objections against Religion, from the evidence of it not being 
universal, nor so strong as might possibly have been, may be urged against 
natural Religion, as well as against revealed. And therefore the consider- 
ation of them belongs to the first part of this Treatise, as well as the 
second. But as these objections are chiefly urged against revealed religion, 
I choose to consider them in the second Part. And the answer to them 
there, Ch.vi. as urged against Christianity, being almost equally applicable 
to them as urged against the Religion of Nature ; to avoid repetition, the 
reader is referred to that chapter. 



CHAP. III. 



Government of God. 



85 



shall be completed, or carried on to that degree of perfection 
which religion teaches us it shall ; but which cannot appear, 
till much more of the divine administration be seen, than can 
in the present life. And the design of this Chapter is to in- 
quire, how far this is the case: how far, over and above the 
moral nature* which God has given us, and our natural notion 
of him as righteous governor of those his creatures, to whom 
he has given this nature ;f I say how far besides this, the 
principles and beginnings of a moral government over the 
world may be discerned, notwithstanding and amidst all the 
confusion and disorder of it. 

Now one might mention here, what has been often urged 
with great force, that in general, less uneasiness and more 
satisfaction, are the natural consequences J of a virtuous than 
of a vicious course of life, in the present state, as an instance 
of a moral government established in nature ; an instance of 
it, collected from experience and present matter of fact. 
But it must be. owned a thing of difficulty to weigh and ba- 
lance pleasures and uneasinesses, each amongst themselves, 
and also against each other, so as to make an estimate with 
any exactness, of the overplus of happiness on the side of 
virtue. And it is not impossible, that, amidst the infinite 
disorders of the world, there may be exceptions to the hap- 
piness of virtue ; even with regard to those persons, whose 
course of life from their youth up has been blameless : and 
more with regard to those, who have gone on for some time 
in the ways of vice, and have afterwards reformed. For sup- 
pose an instance of the latter case ; a person with his passions 
inflamed, his natural faculty of self-government impaired by 
habits of indulgence, and with all his vices about him, like 
so many harpies, craving for their accustomed gratification : 
who can say how long it might be, before such a person 
would find more satisfaction in the reasonableness and pre- 
sent good consequences of virtue, than difficulties and self- 
denial in the restraints of it ? Experience also shews, that 
men can, to a great degree, get over their sense of shame, so 
as that by professing themselves to be without principle, and 
avowing even direct villany, they can support themselves 
against the infamy of it. But as the ill actions of any one 
will probably be more talked of, and oftener thrown in his 
w r ay, upon his reformation ; so the infamy of them will be 

* Dissertation IL f Chap. vi. 

X See Lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. Part IT. 



86 



Of the Moral 



PART I. 



much more felt, after the natural sense of virtue and of ho- 
nour is recovered. Uneasinesses of this kind ought indeed to 
be put to the account of former vices : yet it will be said, 
they are in part the consequences of reformation. Still I am 
far from allowing it doubtful, whether virtue, upon the whole, 
be happier than vice in the present world. But if it were, 
yet the beginnings of a righteous administration may beyond 
all question be found in nature, if we will attentively inquire 
after them. And, 

I. In whatever manner the notion of God's moral govern- 
ment over the w T orld might be treated, if it did not appear, 
whether he were in a proper sense our governor at all : yet 
when it is certain matter of experience, that he does mani- 
fest himself to us under the character of a governor, in the 
sense explained ;* it must deserve to be considered, whe- 
ther there be not reason to apprehend, that he may be a 
righteous or moral governor. Since it appears to be fact, 
that God does govern mankind by the method of rewards 
and punishments, according to some settled rules of distri- 
bution ; it is surely a question to be asked, What presumption 
is there against his finally rewarding and punishing them 
according to this particular rule, namely, as they act reason- 
ably or unreasonably, virtuously or viciously? since render- 
ing men happy or miserable by this rule, certainly falls in, 
much more falls in, with our natural apprehensions and sense 
of things, than doing so by any other rule whatever : since 
rewarding and punishing actions by any other rule, would 
appear much harder to be accounted for, by minds formed 
as he has formed ours. Be the evidence of religion then 
more or less clear, the expectation which it raises in us, that 
the righteous shall, upon the whole, be happy, and the 
wicked miserable, cannot however possibly be considered as 
absurd or chimerical ; because it is no more than an expec- 
tation, that a method of government already begun, shall be 
carried on, the method of rewarding and punishing actions; 
and shall be carried on by a particular rule, which unavoid- 
ably appears to us at first sight more natural than any other, 
the rule which we call distributive justice. Nor, 

II. Ought it to be entirely passed over, that tranquillity, 
satisfaction, and external advantages, being the natural con- 
sequences of prudent management of ourselves, and our 
affairs ; and rashness, profligate negligence, and wilful folly, 

* Chap. ii. 



CHAP. III. 



Government of God. 



87 



bringing after them many inconveniences and sufferings ; 
these afford instances of a right constitution of nature: as 
the correction of children, for their own sakes, and by way 
of example, when they run into danger or hurt themselves, is 
a part of right education. And thus, that God governs the 
world by general fixed laws, that he has endued us with ca- 
pacities of reflecting upon this constitution of things, and 
foreseeing the good and bad consequences of our behaviour; 
plainly implies some sort of moral government : since from 
such a constitution of things it cannot but follow, that pru- 
dence and imprudence, which are of the nature of virtue and 
vice,* must be, as they are, respectively rewarded and pu- 
nished. 

[ill. From the natural course of things, vicious actions 
are, to a great degree, actually punished as mischievous to 
society ; and besides punishment actually inflicted upon this 
account, there is also the fear and apprehension of it in those 
persons, whose crimes have rendered them obnoxious to it, 
in case of a discovery ; this state of fear being itself often 
a very considerable punishment. The natural fear and ap- 
prehension of it too, which restrains from such crimes, is a 
declaration of nature against them. It is necessary to the 
very being of society, that vices destructive of it, should be 
punished as being so; the vices of falsehood, injustice, cruelty; 
which punishment therefore is as natural as society; and 
so is an instance of a kind of moral government, naturally 
established, and actually taking place. . And, since the cer- 
tain natural course of things is the conduct of Providence or 
the government of God, though carried on by the instrumen- 
tality of men ; the observation here made amounts to this, 
that mankind find themselves placed by him in such circum- 
stances, as that they are unavoidably accountable for their 
behaviour, and are often punished, and sometimes rewarded 
under his government, in the view of their being mischievous, 
or eminently beneficial to society. 

If it be objected that good actions, and such as are bene- 
ficial to society, are often punished, as in the case of per- 
secution and in other cases ; and that ill and mischievous 
actions are often rewarded: it may be answered distinctly; 
first, that this is in no sort necessary, and consequently not 
natural, in the sense in which it is necessary, and therefore 
natural, that ill or mischievous actions should be punished ; 

* See Dissert. II. 



Of the Moral 



PART I. 



and in the next place, that good actions are never punished, 
considered as beneficial to society, nor ill actions rewarded, 
under the view of their being hurtful to it. So that it stands 
good, without any thing on the side of vice to be set over 
against it, that the Author of Nature has as truly directed, 
that vicious actions, considered as mischievous to society, 
should be punished, and put mankind under a necessity of 
thus punishing them ; as he has directed and necessitated us 
to preserve our lives by food. 

IV. In the natural course of things, virtue as such is ac- 
tually rewarded, and vice as such punished : which seems to 
afford an instance or example, not only of government, but 
of moral government, begun and established ; moral in the 
strictest sense ; though not in that perfection of degree, 
which religion teaches us to expect. In order to see this 
more clearly, we must distinguish between actions them- 
selves, and that quality ascribed to them, which we call vir- 
tuous or vicious. The gratification itself of every natural 
passion, must be attended with delight : and acquisitions of 
fortune, however made, are acquisitions of the means or ma- 
terials of enjoyment. An action then, by which any natural 
passion is gratified or fortune acquired, procures delight or 
advantage; abstracted from all consideration of the morality 
of such action. Consequently, the pleasure or advantage in 
this case, is gained by the action itself, not by the morality, 
the virtuousness or viciousness of it ; though it be, perhaps, 
virtuous or vicious. Thus, to say such an action or course 
of behaviour, procured such pleasure or advantage, or brought 
oft such inconvenience and pain, is quite a different thing 
from saying, that such good or bad effect was owing to the 
virtue or vice of such action or behaviour. In one case, an 
action abstracted from all moral consideration, produced its 
effect : in the other case, for it will appear that there are 
such cases, the morality of the action, the action under a 
moral consideration, i. e. the virtuousness or viciousness of it, 
produced the effect. Now I say virtue as such, naturally 
procures considerable advantages to the virtuous, and vice as 
such, naturally occasions great inconvenience and even mi- 
sery to the vicious, in very many instances. The immediate 
effects of virtue and vice upon the mind and temper, are to 
be mentioned as instances of it. Vice as such is naturally 
attended with some sort of uneasiness, and, not uncommonly, 
with great disturbance and apprehension. That inward 



CHAP. III. 



Government of God. 



89 



feeling, which, respecting lesser matters, and in familiar 
speech, we call being vexed with oneself, and in matters of 
importance and in more serious language, remorse ; is an 
uneasiness naturally arising from an action of a man's own, 
reflected upon by himself as wrong, unreasonable, faulty, i. e. 
vicious in greater or less degrees : and this manifestly is a 
different feeling from that uneasiness, which arises from a 
sense of mere loss or harm. What is more common, than to 
hear a man lamenting an accident or event, and adding — • — - 
but however he has the satisfaction that he cannot blame 
himself for it; or on the contrary, that he has the uneasiness 
of being sensible it was his own doing? Thus also the 
disturbance and fear, which often follow upon a man's 
having done an injury, arise from a sense of his being blame 
worthy; otherwise there would, in many cases, be no ground 
of disturbance, nor any reason to fear resentment or shame. 
On the other hand, inward security and peace, and a mind 
open to the several gratifications of life, are the natural at- 
tendants of innocence and virtue. To which must be added 
the complacency, satisfaction, and even joy of heart, which 
accompany the exercise, the real exercise of gratitude, friend- 
ship, benevolence. 

And here, I think, ought to be mentioned, the fears of fu- 
ture punishment, and peaceful hopes of a better life, in those 
who fully believe, or have any serious apprehension of reli- 
gion : because these hopes and fears are present uneasiness 
and satisfaction to the mind p and cannot be got rid of by 
great part of the world, even by men who have thought most 
thoroughly upon that subject of religion. And no one can 
say, how considerable this uneasiness and satisfaction may 
be, or what upon the whole it may amount to. 

In the next place comes in the consideration, that all ho- 
nest and good men are disposed to befriend honest good men 
as such, and to discountenance the vicious as such, and do 
so in some degree ; indeed in a considerable degree : from 
which favour and discouragement cannot but arise consider- 
able advantage and inconvenience. And though the gene- 
rality of the world have little regard to the morality of their 
own actions, and may be supposed to have less to that of 
others, when they themselves are not concerned ; yet let any 
one be known to be a man of virtue, some how or other he will 
be favoured, and good offices will be done him, from regard 
to his character, without remote views, occasionally, and in 



90 



Of the Moral 



PART I. 



some low degree, I think, by the generality of the world, as 
it happens to come in their way. Public honours too and 
advantages are the natural consequences, are sometimes at 
least the consequences in fact, of virtuous actions ; of emi- 
nent justice, fidelity, charity, love to our country, considered 
in the view of being virtuous. And sometimes even death 
itself, often infamy and external inconveniences, are the pub- 
lic consequences of vice as vice. For instance, the sense 
which mankind have of tyranny, injustice, oppression, addi- 
tional to the mere feeling or fear of misery, has doubtless 
been instrumental in bringing about revolutions, which make 
a figure even in the history of the world. For it is plain, 
men resent injuries as implying faultiness, and retaliate, not 
merely under the notion of having received harm, but of hav- 
ing received wrong ; and they have this resentment in be- 
half of others, as well as of themselves. So likewise even 
the generality are, in some degree, grateful and disposed to 
return good offices, not merely because such a one has been 
the occasion of good to them, but under the view, that such 
good offices implied kind intention and good desert in the 
doer. To all this may be added two or three particular things, 
which many persons will think frivolous ; but to me nothing 
appears so, which at all comes in towards determining a 
question of such importance, as, whether there be, or be not, 
a moral institution of government, in the strictest sense moral, 
visibly established and begun in nature. The particular things 
are these : That in domestic government, which is doubtless 
natural, children and others also are very generally punished 
for falsehood and injustice and ill-behaviour, as such, and 
rewarded for the contrary : which are instances where vera- 
city and justice and right behaviour, as such, are naturally 
enforced by rewards and punishments, whether more or less 
considerable in degree : that, though civil government be 
supposed to take cognizance of actions in no other view than 
as prejudicial to society, without respect to the immorality 
of them ; yet as such actions are immoral, so the sense which 
men have of the immorality of them, very greatly contributes, 
in different ways, to bring offenders to justice : and that en- 
tire absence of all crime and guilt in the moral sense, when 
plainly appearing, will almost of course procure, and circum- 
stances of aggravated guilt prevent, a remission of the penal- 
ties annexed to civil crimes, in many cases, though by no 
means in all. 



CHAP. III. 



Government of God. 



91 



Upon the whole then, besides the good and bad effects of 
virtue and vice upon men's own minds, the course of the 
world does, in some measure, turn upon the approbation and 
disapprobation of them as such, in others. The sense of well 
and ill doing, the presages of conscience, the love of good 
characters and dislike of bad ones, honour, shame, resentment, 
gratitude ; all these, considered in themselves, and in their 
effects, do afford manifest real instances of virtue as such na- 
turally favoured, and of vice as such discountenanced, more 
or less, in the daily course of human life ; in every age, in 
every relation, in every general circumstance of it. That God 
has given us a moral nature, # may most justly be urged as a 
proof of our being under his moral government : but that he 
has placed us in a condition, which gives this nature as one 
may speak, scope to operate, and in which it does unavoid- 
ably operate ; L e. influence mankind to act, so as thus to 
favour and reward virtue, and discountenance and punish 
vice ; this is not the same, but a farther, additional proof of 
his moral government : for it is an instance of it. The first 
is a proof, that he will finally favour and support virtue effec- 
tually : the second is an example of his favouring and sup- 
porting it at present, in some degree. 

If a more distinct inquiry be made, whence it arises, that 
virtue as such is often rewarded, and vice as such is pu- 
nished, and this rule never inverted : it will be found to pro- 
ceed, in part, immediately from the moral nature itself, 
which God has given us ; and also in part, from his having 
given us, together with this nature, so great a power over 
each other's happiness and misery. For, Jirst, it is certain, 
that peace and delight, in some degree and upon some occa- 
sions, is the necessary and present effect of virtuous practice; 
an effect arising immediately from that constitution of our 
nature. We are so made, that well-doing as such gives us 
satisfaction, at least, in some instances ; ill-doing as such, in 
none. And, secondly, from our moral nature, joined with 
God's having put our happiness and misery in many respects 
in each other's power, it cannot but be, that vice as such, 
some kinds and instances of it at least, will be infamous, 
and men will be disposed to punish it as in itself detestable; 
and the villain will by no means be able always to avoid 
feeling that infamy, any more than he will be able to escape 
this further punishment, which mankind will be disposed to 

* See Dissert. II. 



92 



Of the Moral 



PART I. 



inflict upon him, under the notion of his deserving it. But. 
there can be nothing on the side of vice, to answer this ; be- 
cause there is nothing in the human mind contradictory, as 
the logicians speak, to virtue. For virtue consists in a re- 
gard to what is right and reasonable, as being so ; in a 
regard to veracity, justice, charity, in themselves : and there 
is surely no such thing, as a like natural regard to falsehood, 
injustice, cruelty. If it be thought, that there are instances 
of an approbation of vice, as such, in itself, and for its own 
sake (though it does not appear to me, that there is any such 
thing at all ; but supposing there be), it is evidently mon- 
strous : as much so, as the most acknowledged perversion of 
any passion whatever. Such instances of perversion then 
being left out, as merely imaginary, or, however, unnatural ; 
it must follow, from the frame of our nature, and from our 
condition, in the respects now described, that vice cannot 
at all be, and virtue cannot but be, favoured as such by 
others, upon some occasions, and happy in itself, in some 
degree. For what is here insisted upon, is not the degree 
in which virtue and vice are thus distinguished, but only 
the thing itself, that they are so in some degree ; though the 
whole good and bad effect of virtue and vice as such, is not 
inconsiderable in degree. But that they must be thus dis- 
tinguished in some degree, is in a manner necessary : it is 
matter of fact of daily experience, even in the greatest con- 
fusion of human affairs. 

It is not pretended but that in the natural course of things, 
happiness and misery appear to be distributed by other 
rules, than only the personal merit and demerit of charac- 
ters. They may sometimes be distributed by way of mere 
discipline. There may be the wisest and best reasons, why 
the world should be governed by general laws, from whence 
such promiscuous distribution perhaps must follow ; and 
also why our happiness and misery should be put in each 
other's power, in the degree which they are. And these 
things, as in general they contribute to the rewarding virtue 
and punishing vice, as such : so they often contribute also, 
not to the inversion of this, which is impossible ; but to the 
rendering persons prosperous, though wicked ; afflicted, 
though righteous ; and, which is worse, to the rewarding 
some actions, though vicious, and punishing other actions, 
though virtuous. But all this cannot drown the voice of 
Nature in the conduct of Providence, plainly declaring itself 



CHAP. III. 



Government of God. 



93 



for virtue, by way of distinction from vice, and preference 
to it. For our being so constituted as that virtue and vice 
are thus naturally favoured and discountenanced, rewarded 
and punished respectively as such, is an intuitive proof of 
the intent of Nature, that it should be so : otherwise the 
constitution of our mind, from which it thus immediately 
and directly proceeds, would be absurd. But it cannot be 
said, because virtuous actions are sometimes punished, and 
vicious actions rewarded, that Nature intended it. For, 
though this great disorder is brought about, as all actions 
are done, by means of some natural passion ; yet this may 
be, as it undoubtedly is, brought about by the perversion of 
such passion, implanted in us for other, and those very good 
purposes. And indeed these other and good purposes, even 
of every passion, may be clearly seen. 

We have then a declaration, in some degree of present 
effect, from Him who is supreme in Nature, which side He 
is of, or what part he takes : a declaration for virtue, and 
against vice. So far therefore as a man is true to virtue, to 
veracity and justice, to equity and charity, and the right of 
the case, in whatever he is concerned ; so far he is on the 
side of the divine administration, and co-operates with it : 
and from hence, to such a man, arises naturally a secret sa- 
tisfaction and sense of security, and implicit hope of some- 
what further. And, 

V. This hope is confirmed by the necessary tendencies of 
virtue, which, though not of present effect, yet are at pre- 
sent discernible in nature ; and so afford an instance of some- 
what moral in the essential constitution of it. There is, in 
the nature of things, a tendency in virtue and vice to pro- 
duce the good and bad effects now mentioned, in a greater 
degree than they do in fact produce them. For instance ; 
good and bad men would be much more rewarded and pu- 
nished as such, were it not, that justice is often artificially 
eluded, that characters are not known, and many, who would 
thus favour virtue and discourage vice, are hindered from 
doing so by accidental causes. These tendencies of virtue 
and vice are obvious with regard to individuals. But it may 
require more particularly to be considered, that power in a 
society, by being under the direction of virtue, naturally in- 
creases, and has a necessary tendency to prevail over oppo- 
site power, not under the direction of it ; in like manner as 
power, by being under the direction of reason, increases, 



94 



Of the Moral 



PART I. 



and has a tendency to prevail over brute force. There are 
several brute creatures of equal, and several of superior 
strength, to that of men • and possibly the sum of the whole 
strength of brutes may be greater than that of mankind : 
but reason gives us the advantage and superiority over them ; 
and thus man is the acknowledged governing animal upon 
the earth. Nor is this superiority considered by any as ac- 
cidental ; but as what reason has a tendency, in the nature 
of the thing, to obtain. And yet perhaps difficulties may 
be raised about the meaning, as well as the truth, of the as- 
sertion, that virtue has the like tendency. 

To obviate these difficulties, let us see more distinctly, 
how the case stands with regard to reason; which is so 
readily acknowledged to have this advantageous tendency. 
Suppose then two or three men, of the best and most im- 
proved understanding, in a desolate open plain, attacked by 
ten times the number of beasts of prey : would their reason 
secure them the victory in this unequal combat? Power 
then, though joined with reason, and under its direction, 
cannot be expected to prevail over opposite power, though 
merely brutal, unless the one bears some proportion to the 
other. Again : put the imaginary case, that rational and 
irrational creatures were of like external shape and manner: 
it is certain, before there were opportunities for the first to 
distinguish each other, to separate from their adversaries, 
and to form a union among themselves, they might be upon 
a level, or in several respects upon great disadvantage; 
though united they might be vastly superior : since union 
is of such efficacy, that ten men united* might be able to ac- 
complish, what ten thousand of the same natural strength 
and understanding wholly ununited, could not. In this 
case then, brute force might more than maintain its ground 
against reason, for want of union among the rational crea- 
tures. Or suppose a number of men to land upon an island 
inhabited only by wild beasts ; a number of men who, by 
the regulations of civil government, the inventions of art, 
and the experience of some years, could they be preserved 
so long, would be really sufficient to subdue the wild beasts, 
and to preserve themselves in security from them : yet a con- 
juncture of accidents might give such advantage to the 
irrational animals as that they might at once overpower, and 
even extirpate, the whole species of rational ones. Length 
of time then 5 proper scope and opportunities, for reason to 



CHAP. III. 



Government of God, 



95 



exert itself, may be absolutely necessary to its prevailing 
over brute force. Further still : there are many instances 
of brutes succeeding in attempts, which they could not have 
undertaken, had not their irrational nature rendered them 
incapable of foreseeing the danger of such attempts, or the 
fury of passion hindered their attending to it ; and there are 
instances of reason and real prudence preventing men's un- 
dertaking what, it hath appeared afterwards, they might 
have succeeded in by a lucky rashness. And in certain 
conjunctures, ignorance and folly, weakness and discord, 
may have their advantages. So that rational animals have 
not necessarily the superiority over irrational ones : but, 
how improbable soever it may be, it is evidently possible, 
that in some globes the latter may be superior. And 
were the former wholly at variance and disunited, by false 
self-interest and envy, by treachery and injustice, and 
consequent rage and malice against each other, whilst the 
latter were firmly united among themselves by instinct; this 
might greatly contribute to the introducing such an inverted 
order of things. For every one would consider it as in- 
verted : since reason has, in the nature of it, a tendency to 
prevail over brute force; notwithstanding the possibility it 
may not prevail, and the necessity, which there is, of many 
concurring circumstances to render it prevalent. 

Now I say, virtue in a society has a like tendency to pro- 
cure superiority and additional power : whether this power 
be considered as the means of security from opposite power, 
or of obtaining other advantages. And it has this tendency, 
by rendering public good, an object and end, to every mem- 
ber of the society ; by putting every one upon consideration 
and diligence, recollection and self-government, both in order 
to see what is the most effectual method, and also in order 
to perform their proper part, for obtaining and preserving 
it ; by uniting a society within itself, and so increasing its 
strength ; and, which is particularly to be mentioned, uniting 
it by means of veracity and justice. For as these last are 
principal bonds of union, so benevolence or public spirit, 
undirected, unrestrained by them, is, nobody knows what. 

And suppose the invisible world, and the invisible dis- 
pensations of Providence, to be, in any sort, analogous to 
what appears : or that both together make up one uniform 
scheme, the two parts of which, the part which we see, and 
that which is beyond our observation, are analogous to each 



86 



Of the Moral 



part r. 



other: then, there must be a like natural tendency in the 
derived power, throughout the universe, under the direction 
of virtue, to prevail in general over that, which is not under 
its direction ; as there is in reason, derived reason in the 
universe, to prevail over brute force. But then, in order to 
the prevalence of virtue, or that it may actually produce, 
what it has a tendency to produce ; the like concurrences 
are necessary, as are, to the prevalence of reason. There 
must be some proportion, between the natural power or force 
which is, and that which is not, under the direction of virtue : 
there must be sufficient length of time ; for the complete 
success of virtue, as of reason, cannot, from the nature of the 
thing, be otherwise than gradual : there must be, as one may 
speak, a fair field of trial, a stage large and extensive enough, 
proper occasions and opportunities, for the virtuous to join 
together, to exert themselves against lawless force, and to 
reap the fruit of their united labours. Now indeed it is to 
be hoped, that the disproportion between the good and bad, 
even here on earth, is not so great, but that the former have 
natural power sufficient to their prevailing to a considerable 
degree, if circumstances would permit this power to be united. 
For, much less, very much less, power under the direction 
of virtue, would prevail over much greater not under the 
direction of it. However, good men over the face of the 
earth cannot unite ; as for other reasons, so because they 
cannot be sufficiently ascertained of each other s characters. 
And the known course of human things, the scene we are 
now passing through, particularly the shortness of life, de- 
nies to virtue its full scope in several other respects. The 
natural tendency which we have been considering, though 
real, is hindered from being carried into effect in the present 
state : but these hindrances may be removed in a future one. 
Virtue, to borrow the Christian allusion, is militant here ; 
and various untoward accidents contribute to its being often 
overborne : but it may combat with greater advantage here- 
after, and prevail completely, and enjoy its consequent re- 
wards, in some future states. Neglected as it is, perhaps 
unknown, perhaps despised and oppressed here ; there may 
be scenes in eternity, lasting enough, and in every other w r ay 
adapted, to afford it a sufficient sphere of action ; and a suf- 
ficient sphere for the natural consequences of it to follow in 
fact. If the soul be naturally immortal, and this state be a 
progress towards a future one, as childhood is towards ma- 



chap. in. Government of God. 97 

ture age ; good men may naturally unite, not only amongst 
themselves, but also with other orders of virtuous creatures, 
in that future state. For virtue, from the very nature of it, 
is a principle and bond of union, in some degree, amongst all 
who are endued with it, and known to each other ; so as 
! that by it, a good man cannot but recommend himself to the 
favour and protection of all virtuous beings, throughout the 
whole universe, who can be acquainted with his character, 
and can any way interpose in his behalf in any part of his 
duration. And one might add, that suppose all this advan- 
tageous tendency of virtue to become effect, amongst one or 
more orders of creatures, in any distant scenes and periods, 
and to be seen by any orders of vicious creatures, throughout 
the universal kingdom of God ; this happy effect of virtue 
would have a tendency, by way of example, and possibly in 
other ways, to amend those of them, who are capable of 
amendment, and being recovered to a just sense of virtue. 
If our notions of the plan of Providence were enlarged in 
any sort proportionable to what late discoveries have enlarged 
our views with respect to the material world ; representa- 
tions of this kind would not appear absurd or extravagant. 
However, they are not to be taken as intended for a literal 
delineation of what is in fact the particular scheme of the uni- 
verse, which cannot be known without revelation : for sup- 
positions are not to be looked on as true, because not incredi- 
ble : but they are mentioned to shew, that our finding virtue 
to be hindered from procuring to itself such superiority and 
advantages, is no objection against its having, in the essential 
nature of the thing, a tendency to procure them. And the 
suppositions now mentioned do plainly shew this : for they 
shew, that these hindrances are so far from being necessary, 
that we ourselves can easily conceive, how they may be re- 
moved in future states, and full scope be granted to virtue. 
And ail these advantageous tendencies of it are to be consi- 
dered as declarations of God in its favour. This however is 
taking a pretty large compass : though it is certain, that, as 
the material world appears to be, in a manner, boundless 
and immense ; there must be some scheme of Providence 
vast in proportion to it. 

But let us return to the earth our habitation ; and we 
shall see this happy tendency of virtue, by imagining an 
instance not so vast and remote : by supposing a kingdom 
or society of men upon it, perfectly virtuous, for a succession 



Of the Moral 



PART T, 



of many ages ; to which, if you please, may be given a 
situation advantageous for universal monarchy. In such a 
state, there would be no such thing as faction : but men of 
the greatest capacity would of course, all along, have the 
chief direction of affairs willingly yielded to them ; and they 
would share it among themselves without envy. Each of 
these would have the part assigned him, to which his genius 
was peculiarly adapted : and others, who had not any dis- 
tinguished genius, would be safe, and think themselves very 
happy, by being under the protection and guidance of those 
who had. Public determinations would really be the result of 
the united wisdom of the community : and they would faith- 
fully be executed, by the united strength of it. Some would 
in a higher way contribute, but all would in some way con- 
tribute, to the public prosperity: and in it, each would enjoy 
the fruits of his own virtue. And as injustice, whether by 
fraud or force, would be unknown among themselves ; so 
they would be sufficiently secured from it in their neigh- 
bours. For cunning and false self-interest, confederacies in 
injustice, ever slight, and accompanied with faction and 
intestine treachery; these on one hand would be found mere 
childish folly and weakness, when set in opposition against 
wisdom, public spirit, union inviolable, and fidelity on the 
other : allowing both a sufficient length of years to try their 
force. Add the general influence, which such a kingdom 
would have over the face of the earth, by way of example 
particularly, and the reverence which would be paid it. It 
would plainly be superior to all others, and the world must 
gradually come under its empire ; not by means of lawless 
violence ; but partly by what must be allowed to be just con- 
quest ; and partly by other kingdoms submitting themselves 
voluntarily to it, throughout a course of ages, and claiming 
its protection, one after another, in successive exigencies. 
The head of it would be a universal monarch, in another 
sense than any mortal has yet been ; and the eastern style 
would be literally applicable to him, that all people, nations, 
and languages should serve him. And though indeed our 
knowledge of human nature, and the whole history of man- 
kind, shew the impossibility, without some miraculous inter- 
position, that a number of men, here on earth, should unite 
in one society or government, in the fear of God and uni- 
versal practice of virtue ; and that such a government should 
continue so united for a succession of ages : yet admitting 



chap. nr. Government of God. 99 

or supposing this, the effect would be as now drawn out 
And thus, for instance, the wonderful power and prosperity 
promised to the Jewish nation in the Scripture, would be, in 
a great measure, the consequence of what is predicted of 
them ; that the people should be all righteous, and inherit the 
land for ever ;* were we to understand the latter phrase of a 
long continuance only, sufficient to give things time to work. 
The predictions of this kind, for there are many of them, can- 
not come to pass, in the present known course of nature ; but 
suppose them come to pass, and then, the dominion and pre- 
eminence promised must naturally follow, to a very consi- 
derable degree. 

Consider now the general system of religion; that the 
government of the world is uniform, and one, and moral ; 
that virtue and right shall finally have the advantage, and 
prevail over fraud and lawless force, over the deceits as well 
as the violence of wickedness, under the conduct of one su- 
preme governor: and from the observations above made, it 
will appear, that God has, by our reason, given us to see a 
peculiar connexion in the several parts of this scheme, and 
a tendency towards the completion of it, arising out of the 
very nature of virtue : which tendency is to be considered as 
somewhat moral in the essential constitution of things. If 
airy one should think all this to be of little importance; I de- 
sire him to consider, what he would think, if vice had, essen- 
tially and in its nature, these advantageous tendencies; or if 
virtue had essentially the direct contrary ones. 

But it may be objected, that notwithstanding all these na- 
tural effects and these natural tendencies of virtue; yet things 
may be now going on throughout the universe, and may go 
on hereafter, in the same mixed way as here at present upon 
earth : virtue sometimes prosperous, sometimes depressed ; 
vice sometimes punished, sometimes successful. The answer 
to which is, that it is not the purpose of this chapter, nor of 
this treatise, properly to prove God's perfect moral govern- 
ment over the world, or the truth of Religion ; but to observe 
what there is in the constitution and course of nature, to con- 
firm the proper proof of it, supposed to be known: and that 
the weight of the foregoing observations to this purpose may 
be thus distinctly proved. Pleasure and pain are indeed to 
a certain degree, say to a very high degree, distributed 
amongst us without any apparent regard to the merit or de- 

* Isa. Ix. 21. 
G 2 



100 



Of the Moral 



PART p. 



merit of characters. And were there nothing else concern- 
ing this matter discernible in the constitution and course of 
nature; there would be no ground from the constitution and 
course of nature to hope or to fear, that men would be re- 
warded or punished hereafter according to their deserts : 
which, however, it is to be remarked, implies, that even then 
there would be no ground from appearances to think, that 
vice upon the whole would have the advantage, rather than 
that virtue would. And thus the proof of a future state of re- 
tribution would rest upon the usual known arguments for it : 
which are I think plainly unanswerable; and would be so, 
though there were no additional confirmation of them from 
the things above insisted on. But these things are a very- 
strong confirmation of them. For, 

First, They shew, that the Author of Nature is not indif- 
ferent to virtue and vice. They amount to a declaration from 
him, determinate and not to be evaded, in favour of one, and 
against the other; such a declaration, as there is nothing to 
be set over against or answer, on the part of vice. So that 
were a man, laying aside the proper proof of Religion, to de- 
termine from the course of nature only, whether it were most 
probable, that the righteous or the wicked would have the 
advantage in a future life; there can be no doubt, but that he 
would determine the probability to be, that the former would. 
The course of nature then, in the view of it now given, furnishes 
\is with a real practical proof of the obligations of Religion. 

Secondly, When, conformably to what Religion teaches us, 
God shall reward and punish virtue and vice as such, so as 
that every one shall, upon the whole, have his deserts; this 
distributive justice will not be a thing different in kind, but 
only in degree, from what we experience in his present go- 
vernment. It will be that in effect, toward which we now 
see a tendency. It will be no more than the completion of 
that moral government, the principles and beginning of which 
have been shewn, beyond all dispute, discernible in the 
present constitution and course of nature. And from hence 
it follows, 

Thirdly, That, as under the natural government of God, our 
experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness and mi- 
sery, which we do experience at present, gives just ground 
to hope for, and to fear, higher degrees and other kinds of 
both in a future state, supposing a future state admitted: so 
under his moral government, our experience, that virtue and 



chap. nr. Government of God. 101 

vice are, in the manners above-mentioned, actually rewarded 
and punished at present, in a certain degree, gives just 
ground to hope and to fear, that they may be rewarded and 
punished in a higher degree hereafter. It is acknowledged 
indeed that this alone is not sufficient ground to think, that 
they actually will be rewarded and punished in a higher de- 
gree, rather than in a lower: but then, 

Lastly, There is sufficient ground to think so, from the good 
and bad tendencies of virtue and vice. For these tendencies 
are essential, and founded in the nature of things: whereas 
the hindrances to their becoming effect are, in numberless 
cases, not necessary, but artificial only. Now it may be much 
more strongly argued, that these tendencies, as well as the 
actual rewards and punishments, of virtue and vice, which 
arise directly out of the nature of things, will remain here- 
after, than that the accidental hindrances of them will. And 
if these hindrances do not remain; those rewards and punish- 
ments cannot but be carried on much farther towards the 
perfection of moral government : i. e. the tendencies of virtue 
and vice will become effect: but when, or where, or in what 
particular way, cannot be known at all, but by revelation. 

Upon the whole: there is a kind of moral government im- 
plied in God's natural government:* virtue and vice are na- 
turally rewarded and punished as beneficial and mischievous 
to society ;t and rewarded and punished directly as virtue 
and vice.J The notion then of a moral scheme of govern- 
ment is not fictitious, but natural; for it is suggested to our 
thoughts by the constitution and course of nature : and the 
execution of this scheme is actually begun, in the instances 
here mentioned. And these things are to be considered as a 
declaration of the Author of Nature, for virtue, and against 
vice : they give a credibility to the supposition of their being 
rewarded and punished hereafter; and also ground to hope 
and to fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in 
higher degrees than they are here. And as all this is con- 
firmed, so the argument for Religion, from the constitution 
and course of nature, is carried on farther, by observing, that 
there are natural tendencies, and, in innumerable cases, only 
artificial hindrances, to this moral scheme's being carried on 
much farther towards perfection, than it is at present.§ The 
notion then of a moral scheme of government, much more 
perfect than what is seen, is not a fictitious, but a natural no« 
* p. 86. fp. 87. tp. 88,&c, | p.. 93, &c. 



102 



Of a State of Trial. 



PART I. 



tion ; for it is suggested to our thoughts, by the essential ten- 
dencies of virtue and vice. And these tendencies are to be 
considered as intimations, as implicit promises and threat- 
enings, from the Author of Nature, of much greater rewards 
and punishments to follow virtue and vice, than do at pre- 
sent. And indeed, every natural tendency, which is to con- 
tinue, but which is hindered from becoming effect by only 
accidental causes, affords a presumption, that such tendency 
will, some time or other, become effect: a presumption in de- 
gree proportionable to the length of the duration, through 
which such tendency will continue. And from these things 
together, arises a real presumption, that the moral scheme of 
government established in nature, shall be carried on much 
farther towards perfection hereafter ; and, I think, a presump- 
tion that it will be absolutely completed. But from these 
things, joined with the moral nature which God has given 
us, considered as given us by him, arises a practical proof* 
that it will be completed: a proof from fact; and therefore 
a distinct one from that, which is deduced from the eternal 
and unalterable relations, the fitness and unfitness of actions. 



CHAP. IV. 

Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial. 
Difficulties, and Danger. 

The general doctrine of Religion, that our present life is a 
state of probation for a future one, comprehends under it 
several particular things, distinct from each other. But the 
first and most common meaning of it seems to be, that our 
future interest is now depending, and depending upon our- 
selves ; that we have scope and opportunities here, for that 
good and bad behaviour, which God will reward and punish 
hereafter; together with temptations to one, as well as in- 
ducements of reason to the other. And this is, in a great mea- 
sure, the same with saying, that we are under the moral govern- 
ment of God, and to give an account of our actions to him. 
For the notion of a future account and general righteous 
judgment, implies some sort of temptations to what is wrong: 
otherwise there would be no moral possibility of doing wrong, 
nor ground for judgment, or discrimination. But there is 
this difference, that the word probation is more distinctly and 
* See this proof drawn out briefly, Ch. vh 



chap. iv. Of a State of Trial. 103 

particularly expressive of allurements to wrong, or difficul- 
ties in adhering uniformly to what is right, and of the danger 
of miscarrying by such temptations, than the words moral 
government. A state of probation then, as thus particularly 
implying in it trial, difficulties, and danger, may require to 
be considered distinctly by itself. 

And as the moral government of God, which Religion 
teaches us, implies, that we are in a state of trial with regard 
to a future world : so also his natural government over us 
implies, that we are in a state of trial, in the like sense, with 
regard to the present world. Natural government by rewards 
and punishments, as much implies natural trial, as moral 
government does moral trial. The natural government of 
God here meant* consists in his annexing pleasure to some 
actions, and pain to others, which are in our power to do or 
forbear, and in giving us notice of such appointment before- 
hand. This necessarily implies, that he has made our hap- 
piness and misery, or our interest, to depend in part upon 
ourselves. And so far as men have temptations to any course 
of action, which will probably occasion them greater temporal 
inconvenience and uneasiness, than satisfaction ; so far their 
temporal interest is in danger from themselves, or they are in 
a state of trial with respect to it. Now people often blame 
others, and even themselves, for their misconduct in their tem- 
poral concerns. And we find many are greatly wanting to them- 
selves, and miss of that natural happiness, which they might 
have obtained m the present life : perhaps every one does in 
some degree. But many run themselves into great incon- 
venience, and into extreme distress and misery : not through 
incapacity of knowing better, and doing better for themselves, 
which would be nothing to the present purpose; but through 
their own fault. And these things necessarily imply temp- 
tation, and danger of miscarrying, in a greater or less degree, 
with respect to our worldly interest or happiness. Every one 
too, without having Religion in his thoughts, speaks of the 
hazards which young people run, upon their setting out in 
the world : hazards from other causes, than merely their ig- 
norance, and unavoidable accidents. And some courses of 
vice, at least, being contrary to men's worldly interest or 
good; temptations to these must at the same time be temp- 
tations to forego our present and our future interest. Thus in 
our naturalor temporal capacity, we are in a state of trial, i. e. 

*Ch. ii. 



104 



Of a State of Trial. 



part r. 



of difficulty and danger, analogous, or like to our moral and 
religious trial. 

This will more distinctly appear to any one, who thinks it 
worth while, more distinctly, to consider, what it is which con- 
stitutes our trial in both capacities, and to observe, how T man- 
kind behave under it. 

And that which constitutes this our trial, in both these ca- 
pacities, must be somewhat either in our external circum- 
stances, or in our nature. For, on the one hand, persons may 
be betrayed into wrong behaviour upon surprise, or over- 
come upon any other very singular and extraordinary ex- 
ternal occasions ; who would, otherwise, have preserved their 
character of prudence and of virtue: in which cases, every 
one, in speaking of the wrong behaviour of these persons, 
would impute it to such particular external circumstances. 
And on the other hand, men who have contracted habits of 
vice and folly of any kind, or have some particular passions 
in excess, will seek opportunities, and, as it were, go out of 
their way, to gratify themselves in these respects, at the ex- 
pense of their wisdom and their virtue; led to it, as every 
one would say, not by external temptations, but by such 
habits and passions. And the account of this last case is, 
that particular passions are no more coincident with prudence, 
or that reasonable self-love, the end of which is our worldly 
interest, than they are with the principle of virtue and reli- 
gion ; but often draw contrary ways to one, as well as to the 
other : and so such particular passions are as much tempta- 
tions, to act imprudently with regard to our worldly interest, 
as to act viciously.* However, as when we say, men are 
misled by external circumstances of temptation; it cannot 
but be understood, that there is somewhat within themselves, 
to render those circumstances temptations, or to render them 
susceptible of impressions from them; so when we say, they 
are misled by passions; it is always supposed, that there are 
occasions, circumstances, and objects, exciting these passions, 
and affording means for gratifying them. And therefore, 
temptations from within, and from without, coincide, and 
mutually imply each other. Now the several external ob- 
jects of the appetites, passions, and affections, being present 
to the senses, or offering themselves to the mind, and so ex- 
citing emotions suitable to their nature; not only in cases where 

* See Sermons preached at the Rolls, 1726. 2d Ed. p. 205, &c. Pref. 
p. 25, &c. Serm. p. 21, &c. 



chap. iv. Of a State of Trial. 105 

they can be gratified consistently with innocence and pru- 
dence, but also in cases where they cannot, and yet can be 
gratified imprudently and viciously : this as really puts them in 
danger of voluntarily foregoing their present interest or good, 
as their future; and as really renders self-denial necessary 
to secure one, as the other; i. e. we are in a like state of trial 
with respect to both, by the very same passions, excited by 
the very same means. Thus mankind having a temporal in- 
terest depending upon themselves, and a prudent course- of 
behaviour being necessary to secure it; passions inordinately 
excited, whether by means of example, or by any other ex- 
ternal circumstance, towards such objects, at such times, or 
in such degrees, as that they cannot be gratified consistently 
with worldly prudence ; are temptations, dangerous, and too 
often successful temptations, to forego agreater temporal good 
for a less; i. e. to forego what is, upon the whole, our tem- 
poral interest, for the sake of a present gratification. This is 
a description of our state of trial in our temporal capacity. 
Substitute now the word future for temporal, and virtue for 
prudence; and it will be just as proper a description of our 
state of trial in our religious capacity; so analogous are they 
to each other. 

If, from consideration of this our like state of trial in both 
capacities, we go on to observe farther, how mankind behave 
under it ; we shall find there are some, who have so little 
sense of it, that they scarce look beyond the passing day j 
they are so taken up with present gratifications, as to have, 
in a manner, no feeling of consequences, no regard to their 
future ease or fortune in this life ; any more than to their 
happiness in another. Some appear to be blinded and de- 
ceived by inordinate passion, in their worldly concerns, as 
much as in Religion. Others are, not deceived, but, as it 
were, forcibly carried away by the like passions, against their 
better judgment, and feeble resolutions too of acting better. 
And there are men, and truly they are not a few, who shame- 
lessly avow, not their interest, but their mere will and plea- 
sure, to be their law of life : and who, in open defiance of 
every thing that is reasonable, will go on in a course of 
vicious extravagance, foreseeing, with no remorse and little 
fear, that it will be their temporal ruin ; and some of them, 
under the apprehension of the consequences of wickedness 
in another state. And to speak in the most moderate way, 
human creatures are not only continually liable to go wrong 



106 Of a State of Trial part i. 

voluntarily, but we see likewise that they often actually do 
so, with respect to their temporal interests, as well as with 
respect to Religion. 

Thus our difficulties and dangers, or our trials, in our tem- 
poral and our religious capacity, as they proceed from the 
same causes, and have the same effect upon men's behaviour, 
are evidently analogous, and of the same kind. 

It may be added, that as the difficulties and dangers of 
miscarrying in our religious state of trial, are greatly in- 
creased, and one is ready to think, in a manner wholly made, 
by the ill behaviour of others ; by a wrong education, wrong 
in a moral sense, sometimes positively vicious ; by general 
bad example ; by the dishonest artifices which are got into 
business of all kinds ; and, in very many parts of the world, 
by religion's being corrupted into superstitions, which in- 
dulge men in their vices: so in like manner, the difficulties 
of conducting ourselves prudently in respect to our present 
interest, and our danger of being led aside from pursuing it, 
are greatly increased, by a foolish education ; and, after we 
come to mature age, by the extravagance and carelessness of 
others, whom we have intercourse with ; and by mistaken 
notions, very generally prevalent, and taken up from common 
opinion, concerning temporal happiness, and wherein it con- 
sists. And persons, by their own negligence and folly in 
their temporal affairs, no less than by a course of vice, bring 
themselves into new difficulties; and, by habits of indul- 
gence, become less qualified to go through them : and one 
irregularity after another, embarrasses things to such a de- 
gree, that they know not whereabout they are ; and often 
makes the path of conduct so intricate and perplexed, that 
it is difficult to trace it out ; difficult even to determine what 
is the prudent or the moral part. Thus, for instance, wrong- 
behaviour in one stage of life, youth ; wrong, I mean, consi- 
dering ourselves only in our temporal capacity, without taking 
in religion ; this, in several ways, increases the difficulties of 
right behaviour in mature age; u c. puts us into a more dis- 
advantageous state of trial in our temporal capacity. 

We are an inferior part of the creation of God. There 
are natural appearances of our being in a state of degrada- 
tion.* And we certainly are in a condition, which does not 
seem, by any means, the most advantageous we could ima- 
gine or desire, either in our natural or moral capacity, for 
* Part II. Chap. v. 



chap. iv. Of a State of Trial. 107 

securing* either our present or future interest. However, this 
condition, low and careful and uncertain as it is, does not 
afford any just ground of complaint. For, as men may manage 
their temporal affairs with prudence, and so pass their days 
here on earth in tolerable ease and satisfaction, by a mode- 
rate degree of care : so likewise with regard to religion, there 
is no more required than what they are well able to do, and 
what they must be greatly wanting to themselves, if they neg- 
lect. And for persons to have that put upon them, which 
they are well able to go through, and no more, we naturally 
consider as an equitable thing ; supposing it done by proper 
authority. Nor have we any more reason to complain of it, 
with regard to the Author of Nature, than of his not having 
given us other advantages, belonging to other orders of 
creatures. 

But the thing here insisted upon is, that the state of trial, 
which Religion teaches us we are in, is rendered credible, by 
its being throughout uniform and of a piece with the general 
conduct of Providence towards us, in all other respects within 
the compass of our knowledge. Indeed if mankind, consi- 
dered in their natural capacity, as inhabitants of this world 
only, found themselves, from their birth to their death, in a 
settled state of security and happiness, without any solicitude 
or thought of their own : or if they were in no danger of being 
brought into inconveniences and distress, by carelessness, or 
the folly of passion, through bad example, the treachery of 
others, or the deceitful appearances of things : were this our 
natural condition, then it might seem strange, and be some 
presumption against the truth of Religion, that it represents 
our future and more general interest, as not secure of course, 
but as depending upon our behaviour, and requiring recol- 
lection and self-government to obtain it. For it might be 
alleged, " What you say is our condition in one respect, is 
not in any wise of a sort with what we find, by experience, 
our condition is in another. Our whole present interest is 
secured to our hands, without any solicitude of ours ; and 
why should not our future interest, if we have any such, be 
so too?" But since, on the contrary, thought and considera- 
tion, the voluntary denying ourselves many things which we 
desire, and a course of behaviour, far from being always 
agreeable to us ; are absolutely necessary to our acting even 
a common decent, and common prudent part, so as to pass 
with any satisfaction through the present world, and be re- 



108 



Of a State of Trial. 



part r. 



ceived upon any tolerable good terms in it : since this is the 
case, all presumption against self-denial and attention being 
necessary to secure our higher interest, is removed. Had we 
not experience, it might, perhaps speciously, be urged, that 
it is improbable any thing of hazard and danger should be 
put upon us by an infinite Being ; when every thing which 
is hazard and danger in our manner of conception, and will 
end in error, confusion, and misery, is now already certain in 
his fore-knowledge. And indeed, why any thing of hazard 
and danger should be put upon such frail creatures as we are, 
may well be thought a difficulty in speculation; and cannot 
but be so, till we know the whole, or, however, much more 
of the case. But still the constitution of nature is as it is. 
Our happiness and misery are trusted to our conduct, and 
made to depend upon it. Somewhat, and, in many circum- 
stances, a great deal too, is put upon us, either to do, or to 
suffer, as we choose. And all the various miseries of life, 
which people bring upon themselves by negligence and folly, 
and might have avoided by proper care, are instances of this: 
which miseries are beforehand, just as contingent and unde- 
termined as their conduct, and left to be determined by it. 

These observations are an answer to the objections against 
the credibility of a state of trial, as implying temptations, and 
real danger of miscarrying with regard to our general interest, 
under the moral government of God: and they shew, that, if 
we are at all to be considered in such a capacity, and as 
having such an interest; the general analogy of Providence 
must lead us to apprehend ourselves in danger of miscarrying, 
in different degrees, as to this interest, by our neglecting to 
act the proper part belonging to us in that capacity. For we 
have a present interest under the government of God, which 
we experience here upon earth. And this interest, as it is 
not forced upon us, so neither is it offered to our acceptance, 
but to our acquisition; in such sort, as that we are in danger 
of missing it, by means of temptations to neglect, or act con- 
trary to it; and without attention and self-denial, must and 
do miss of it. It is then perfectly credible, that this may be 
our case, with respect to that chief and final good, which 
Religion proposes to us. 



ch ap. v. Of a State of Moral Discipline. 



109 



CHAP. V. 

Of a State of Probation, as intended for moral 
Discipline and Improvement. 

From the consideration of our being in a probation- state, of 
so much difficulty and hazard, naturally arises the question, 
how we came to be placed in it ? But such a general inquiry 
as this would be found involved in insuperable difficulties. 
For, though some of these difficulties would be lessened by 
observing, that all wickedness is voluntary, as is implied in 
its very notion ; and that many of the miseries of life have 
apparent good effects : yet, when we consider other circum- 
stances belonging to both, and what must be the consequence 
of the former in a life to come ; it cannot but be acknowledged 
plain folly and presumption, to pretend to give an account of 
the whole reasons of this matter : the whole reasons of our 
being allotted a condition, out of which so much wickedness 
and misery, so circumstanced, would in fact arise. Whether 
it be not beyond our faculties, not only to find out, but even 
to understand, the whole account of this ; or, though we 
should be supposed capable of understanding it, yet, whether 
it would be of service or prejudice to us to be informed of it, 
is impossible to say. But as our present condition can in no 
wise be shewn inconsistent with the perfect moral government 
of God : so Religion teaches us we were placed in it, that we 
might qualify ourselves, by the practice of virtue, for another 
state which is to follow it. And this, though but a partial 
answer, a very partial one indeed, to the inquiry now men- 
tioned | yet, is a more satisfactory answer to another, which 
is of real, and of the utmost importance to us to have answered ; 
the inquiry, What is our business here? The known end then, 
why we are placed in a state of so much affliction, hazard, 
and difficulty, is, our improvement in virtue and piety, as the 
requisite qualification for a future state of security and hap- 
piness. 

Now the beginning of life, considered as an education for 
mature age in the present world, appears plainly, at first sight, 
analogous to this our trial for a future one : the former being 
in our temporal capacity, what the latter is in our religious 
capacity. But some observations common to both of them, 
and a more distinct consideration of each, will more distinctly 
shew the extent and force of the analogy between them ; and 



110 



Of a State of 



PART 1, 



the credibility, which arises from hence, as well as from the 
nature of the thing, that the present life was intended to be a 
state of discipline for a future one. 

I. Every species of creatures is, we see, designed for a par- 
ticular way of life ; to which, the nature, the capacities, temper, 
and qualifications of each species, are as necessary, as their 
external circumstances. Both come into the notion of such 
state, or particular way of life, and are constituent parts of it. 
Change a man's capacities or character to the degree, in which 
it is conceivable they may be changed ; and he would be 
altogether incapable of a human course of life, and human 
happiness ; as incapable, as if, his nature continuing un- 
changed, he were placed in a world, where he had no sphere 
of action, nor any objects to answer his appetites, passions, 
and affections of any sort. One thing is set over against 
another, as an ancient writer expresses it. Our nature cor- 
responds to our external condition. Without this correspon- 
dence, there would be no possibility of any such thing as 
human life and human happiness : which life and happiness 
are, therefore, a result from our nature and condition jointly : 
meaning by human life, not living in the literal sense, but the 
whole complex notion commonly understood by those words. 
So that, without determining what will be the employment 
and happiness, the particular life, of good men hereafter; 
there must be some determinate capacities, some necessary 
character and qualifications, without which persons cannot 
but be utterly incapable of it : in like manner, as there must 
be some, without which men would be incapable of their pre- 
sent state of life. Now, , 

II. The constitution of human creatures, and indeed of 
all creatures which come under our notice, is such, as that 
they are capable of naturally becoming qualified for states of 
life, for which they were once wholly unqualified. In ima- 
gination we may indeed conceive of creatures, as incapable 
of having any of their faculties naturally enlarged, or as being- 
unable naturally to acquire any new qualifications : but the 
faculties of every species known to us are made for enlarge- 
ment; for acquirements of experience and habits. We find 
ourselves in particular endued with capacities, not only of 
perceiving ideas, and of knowledge or perceiving truth, but 
also of storing up our ideas and knowledge by memory. We 
are capable, not only of acting, and of having different mo- 
mentary impressions made upon us ; but of getting a new: 



chap. v. Moral Discipline, 111 

facility in any kind of action, and of settled alterations in our 
temper or character. The power of the two last is the power 
of habits. But neither the perception of ideas, nor knowledge 
of any sort, are habits ; though absolutely necessary to the 
forming of them. However, apprehension, reason, memory, 
which are the capacities of acquiring knowledge, are greatly 
improved by exercise. Whether the word habit is applicable 
to all these improvements, and in particular how far the 
powers of memory and of habits may be powers of the same 
nature, I shall not inquire. But that perceptions come into 
our minds readily and of course, by means of their having 
been there before, seems a thing of the same sort, as readiness 
in any particular kind of action, proceeding from being ac- 
customed to it. And aptness to recollect practical obser- 
vations of service in our conduct, is plainly habit in many 
cases. There are habits of perception, and habits of action « 
An instance of the former, is our constant and even involun- 
tary readiness, in correcting the impressions of our sight con- 
cerning magnitudes and distances, so as to substitute judg- 
ment in the room of sensation imperceptibly to ourselves. 
And it seems as if all other associations of ideas not natu- 
rally connected might be called passive habits ; as properly 
as our readiness in understanding languages upon sight, or 
hearing of words. And our readiness in speaking and writing 
them is an instance of the latter, of active habits. For dis- 
tinctness, we may consider habits, as belonging to the body> 
or the mind : and the latter will be explained by the former. 
Under the former are comprehended all bodily activities or 
motions, whether graceful or unbecoming, which are owing 
to use: under the latter, general habits of life and conduct; 
such as those of obedience and submission to authority, or 
to any particular person ; those of veracity, justice, and cha- 
rity ; those of attention, industry, self-government, envy, re- 
venge. And habits of this latter kind seem produced by re- 
peated acts, as well as the former. And in like manner as 
habits belonging to the body are produced by external acts : 
so habits of the mind are produced by the exertion of inward 
practical principles, i. e. by carrying them into act, or acting 
upon them; the principles of obedience, of veracity, justice, 
and charity. Nor can those habits be formed by any external 
course of action, otherwise than as it proceeds from these 
principles: because it is only these inward principles exerted, 
which are strictly acts of obedience, of veracity, of justice, 



112 Of a State of part i. 

and of charity. So likewise habits of attention, industry, 
self-government, are in the same manner acquired by ex- 
ercise; and habits of envy and revenge by indulgence, whe- 
ther in outward act, or in thought and intention, i. e. inward 
act: for such intention is an act. Resolutions also to do well 
are properly acts. And endeavouring to enforce upon our 
own minds a practical sense of virtue, or to beget in others 
that practical sense of it, which a man really has himself, is 
a virtuous act. All these, therefore, may and will contribute 
towards forming good habits. But going over the theory of 
virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pic- 
tures, of it ; this is so far from necessarily or certainly con- 
ducing to form a habit of it, in him who thus emplovs him- 
self, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, and 
render it gradually more insensible, i. e. form a habit of in- 
sensibility, to all moral considerations. For, from our very 
faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, 
grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, 
are felt less sensibly : being accustomed to danger, begets in- 
trepidity, i.e. lessens fear; to distress, lessens the passion of 
pity ; to instances of others' mortality, lessens the sensible 
apprehension of our own. And from these two observations 
together ; that practical habits are formed and strengthened 
by repeated acts, and that passive impressions grow weaker 
by being repeated upon us ; it must follow, that active habits 
may be gradually forming and strengthening, by a course of 
acting upon such and such motives and excitements, whilst 
these motives and excitements themselves are, by propor- 
tionable degrees, growing less sensible, i. e. are continually 
less and less sensibly felt, even as the active habits strengthen. 
And experience confirms this: for active principles, at the 
very time that they are less lively in perception than they 
were, are found to be, some ]iow, wrought more thoroughly 
into the temper and character, and become more effectual 
in influencing our practice. The three things just men- 
tioned may afford instances of it. Perception of danger is 
a natural excitement of passive fear, and active caution : 
and by being inured to danger, habits of the latter are gra- 
dually wrought, at the same time that the former gradually 
lessens. Perception of distress in others is a natural excite- 
ment, passively to pity, and actively to relieve it : but let a 
man set himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve dis- 
tressed persons, and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly 



CHAP. V. 



Moral Discipline. 



113 



affected with the various miseries of life, with which he must 
become acquainted ; when yet, at the same time, benevolence, 
considered not as a passion, but as a practical principle of 
action, will strengthen: and whilst he passively compas- 
sionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude 
actively to assist and befriend them. So also at the same 
time that the daily instances of mens dying around us give 
us daily a less sensible passive feeling or apprehension of 
our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute to the 
strengthening a practical regard to it in serious men ; i. e. to 
forming; a habit of acting with a constant view to it. And 
this seems again further to shew, that passive impressions 
made upon our minds by admonition, experience, example, 
though they may have a remote efficacy, and a very great 
one, towards forming active habits, yet, can have this efficacy 
no otherwise than by inducing us to such a course of action: 
and that it is not being affected so and so, but acting, which 
forms those habits : only it must be always remembered, that 
real endeavours to enforce good impressions upon ourselves 
are a species of virtuous action. Nor do we know how far 
it is possible, in the nature of things, that effects should be 
wrought in us at once, equivalent to habits, i. e. what is 
wrought by use and exercise. However, the thing insisted 
upon is, not what may be possible, but what is in fact the 
appointment of nature : which is, that active habits are to be 
formed by exercise. Their progress may be so gradual, as 
to be imperceptible in its steps : it may be hard to explain 
the faculty, by which we are capable of habits, throughout 
its several parts ; and to trace it up to its original, so as to 
distinguish it from all others in our mind : and it seems as if 
contrary effects were to be ascribed to it. But the thing in 
general, that our nature is formed to yield, in some such 
manner as this, to use and exercise, is matter of certain ex- 
perience. 

Thus, by accustoming ourselves to any course of action, 
we get an aptness to go on, a facility, readiness, and often 
pleasure, in it. The inclinations which rendered us averse 
to it grow weaker : the difficulties in it, not only the imagi- 
nary but. the real ones, lessen : the reasons for it offer them- 
selves of course to our thoughts upon all occasions : and the 
least glimpse of them is sufficient to make us go on, in a 
course of action, to which we have been accustomed. And 
practical principles appear to grow stronger, absolutely in 

H 



114 Of a State of part i, 

themselves, by exercise ; as well as relatively, with regard to 
contrary principles ; which, by being accustomed to submit,, 
do so habitually, and of course. And thus a new character, 
in several respects, may be formed ; and many habitudes 
of life, not given by nature, but which nature directs us to 
acquire. 

III. Indeed we may be assured, that we should never have 
had these capacities of improving by experience, acquired 
knowledge, and habits, had they not been necessary, and in- 
tended to be made use of. And accordingly we find them 
so necessary, and so much intended, that without them we 
should be utterly incapable of that, which was the end for 
which we were made, considered in our temporal capacity 
only : the employments and satisfactions of our mature state 
of life. 

Nature does in no wise qualify us wholly, much less at 
once, for this mature state of life. Even maturity of under- 
standing, and bodily strength, are not only arrived to gra- 
dually, but are also very much owing to the continued 
exercise of our powers of body and mind from infancy. 
But if we suppose a person brought into the world with both 
these in maturity, as far as this is conceivable; he would 
plainly at first be as unqualified for the human life of ma- 
ture age, as an idiot. He would be in a manner distracted, 
with astonishment, and apprehension, and curiosity, and sus- 
pense : nor can one guess, how long it would be, before he 
would be familiarized to himself and the objects about 
him enough, even to set himself to any thing. It may be 
questioned too, whether the natural information of his sight 
and hearing would be of any manner of use at all to him in 
acting, before experience. And it seems, that men would 
be strangely headstrong and self-willed, and disposed to 
exert themselves with an impetuosity, which would render 
society insupportable, and the living in it impracticable ; 
were it not for some acquired moderation and self-govern- 
ment, some aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves, 
and concealing their sense of things. Want of every thing 
of this kind which is learnt would render a man as unca- 
pable of society, as want of language would ; or as his natural 
ignorance of any of the particular employments of life would 
render him uncapable of providing himself with the common 
conveniences, or supplying the necessary wants of it. In 
these respects, and probably in many more, of which we 



CHAP. V. 



Moral Discipline. 



115 



have no particular notion, mankind is left, by nature, an 
unformed, unfinished creature ; utterly deficient and un- 
qualified, before the acquirement of knowledge, experience, 
and habits, for that mature state of life, which was the end 
of his creation, considering him as related only to this world. 

But then, as nature has endued us with a power of supply- 
ing those deficiencies, by acquired knowledge, experience, 
and habits : so likewise we are placed in a condition, in 
infancy, childhood, and youth, fitted for it; fitted for our 
acquiring those qualifications of all sorts, which we stand in 
need of in mature age. Hence children, from their very 
birth, are daily growing acquainted with the objects about 
them, with the scene in which they are placed, and to have 
a future part ; and learning somewhat or ether, necessary 
to the performance of it. The subordinations, to which they 
are accustomed in domestic life, teach them self-government 
in common behaviour abroad, and prepare them for subjec- 
tion and obedience to civil authority. What passes before 
their eyes, and daily happens to them, gives them experience, 
caution against treachery and deceit, together with number- 
less little rules of action and conduct, which we could not 
live without ; and which are learnt so insensibly and so 
perfectly, as to be mistaken perhaps for instinct: though 
they are the effect of long experience and exercise ; as much 
so as language, or knowledge in particular business, or the 
qualifications and behaviour belonging to the several ranks 
and professions. Thus the beginning of our days is adapted 
to be, and is, a state of education in the theory and practice 
of mature life. We are much assisted in it by example, 
instruction, and the care of others ; but a great deal is left 
to ourselves to do. And of this, as part is done easily and 
of course ; so part requires diligence and care, the voluntary 
foregoing many things which we desire, and setting our- 
selves to what we should have no inclination to, but for the 
necessity or expedience of it. For, that labour and industry, 
which the station of so many absolutely requires, they would 
be greatly unqualified for, in maturity, as those in other 
stations would be for any other sorts of application ; if both 
were not accustomed to them in their youth. And, accord- 
ing as persons behave themselves, in the general education 
which all go through, and in the particular ones adapted 
to particular employments ; their character is formed, and 
made appear; they recommend themselves more or less; 

h 2 



116 



Of a State of 



PART 1, 



and are capable of, and placed in, different stations in the 
society of mankind. 

The former part of life, then, is to be considered as an 
important opportunity, which nature puts into our hands ; 
and which, when lost, is not to be recovered. And our 
being placed in a state of discipline throughout this life, for 
another world, is a providential disposition of things, exactly 
of the same kind, as our being placed in a state of discipline 
during childhood, for mature age. Our condition in both 
respects is uniform and of a piece, and comprehended under 
one and the same general law of nature. 

And if we were not able at all to discern, how or in what 
way the present life could be our preparation for another ; 
this would be no objection against the credibility of its being 
so. For we do not discern, how food and sleep contribute 
to the growth of the body ; nor could have any thought that 
they would, before we had experience. Nor do children at 
all think, on the one hand, that the sports and exercises, to 
which they are so much addicted, contribute to their health 
and growth ; nor, on the other, of the necessity which there 
is for their being restrained in them : nor are they capable 
of understanding the use of many parts of discipline, which 
nevertheless they must be made to go through, in order to 
qualify them for the business of mature age. Were we not 
able'then to discover, in what respects the present life could 
form us for a future one ; yet nothing would be more sup- 
posable than that it might, in some respects or other, from 
the general analogy of Providence. And this, for ought I 
see, might reasonably be said, even though we should not 
take in the consideration of God's moral government over 
the world. But, 

IV. Take in this consideration, and consequently, that 
the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualification 
for the future state ; and then we may distinctly see, how, 
and in what respects, the present life may be a preparation 
for it : since we want, and are capable of improvement in that 
character, by moral and religious habits ; and the present life 
is Jit to be a state of discipline for such improvement : in like 
manner as we have already observed, how, and in what re- 
spects, infancy, childhood, and youth, are a necessary pre- 
paration, and a natural state of discipline, for mature age. 

Nothing which we at present see would lead us to the 
thought of a solitary unactive state hereafter : but, if we 



CHAP. V. 



Moral Discipline. 



117 



judge at all from the analogy of nature, we must suppose, 
according to the Scripture account of it, that it will be a 
community. And there is no shadow of any thing un- 
reasonable in conceiving, though there be no analogy for it, 
that this community will be, as the Scripture represents it, 
under the more immediate, or, if such an expression may be 
used, the more sensible government of God. Nor is our 
ignorance, what will be the employments of this happy 
community, nor our consequent ignorance, what particular 
scope or occasion there will be for the exercise of veracity, 
justice, and charity, amongst the members of it with regard 
to each other ; any proof, that there will be no sphere of 
exercise for those virtues. Much less, if that were possible, 
is our ignorance any proof, that there will be no occasion 
for that frame of mind, or character, which is formed by the 
daily practice of those particular virtues here, and which is 
a result from it. This at least must be owned in general, that, 
as the government established in the universe is moral, the 
character of virtue and piety must, in some way or other, be 
the condition of our happiness, or the qualification for it. 

Now from what is above observed, concerning our natu- 
ral power of habits, it is easy to see, that we are capable of 
moral improvement by discipline. And how greatly we 
want it, need not be proved to any one who is acquainted 
with the great wickedness of mankind; or even with those 
imperfections, which the best are conscious of. But it is 
not perhaps distinctly attended to by every one, that the 
occasion which human creatures have for discipline, to im- 
prove in them this character of virtue and piety, is to be 
traced up higher than to excess in the passions, by indul- 
gence and habits of vice. Mankind, and perhaps all finite 
creatures, from the very constitution of their nature, before 
habits of virtue, are deficient, and in danger of deviating 
from what is right; and therefore stand in need of virtuous 
habits, for a security against this* danger. For, together 
with the general principle of moral understanding, we have 
in our inward frame various affections towards particular 
external objects. These affections are naturally, and of 
right, subject to the government of the moral principle, as 
to the occasions upon which they may be gratified; as to the 
times, degrees, and manner, in which the objects of them 
may be pursued : but then the principle of virtue can neither 
excite them, nor prevent their being excited. On the con- 



118 



Of a State of 



PART f- 



trary, they are naturally felt, when the objects of them are 
present to the mind, not only before all consideration, whe- 
ther they can be obtained by lawful means, but after it is 
found they cannot. For the natural objects of affection 
continue so; the necessaries, conveniences, and pleasures of 
life, remain naturally desirable; though they cannot be ob- 
tained innocently: nay, though they cannot possibly be 
obtained at all. And when the objects of any affection 
whatever cannot be obtained without unlawful means; but 
may be obtained by them: such affection, though its being 
excited, and its continuing some time in the mind, be as 
innocent as it is natural and necessary; yet cannot but be 
conceived to have a tendency to incline persons to venture 
upon such unlawful means : and therefore must be conceived 
as putting them in some danger of it. Now what is the 
general security against this danger, against their actually 
deviating from right? As the danger is, so also must the 
security be, from within : from the practical principle of 
virtue. # And the strengthening or improving this principle, 
considered as practical, or as a principle of action, will lessen 
the danger, or increase the security against it. And this 
moral principle is capable of improvement, by proper dis- 
cipline and exercise: by recollecting the practical impres- 
sions which example and experience have made upon us: 
and, instead of following humour and mere inclination, by 
continually attending to the equity and right of the case, in 
whatever we are engaged, be it in greater or less matters; 
and accustoming ourselves always to act upon it ; as being 
itself the just and natural motive of action; and as this moral 

* It may be thought, that a sense of interest would as effectually re- 
strain creatures from doing wrong-. But if by a sense of interest is meant 
a speculative conviction or belief, that such and such indulgence would 
occasion them greater uneasiness, upon the whole, than satisfaction; it is 
contrary to present experience to say, that this sense of interest is suffi- 
cient to restrain them from thus indulging themselves. And if by a sense 
of interest is meant a practical regard to what is upon the whole our hap- 
piness; this is not only coincident with the principle of virtue or moral 
recttude, but is a part of the idea itself. And it is evident this reason- 
able self-love wants to be improved, as really as any principle in our 
nature. For we daily see it overmatched, not only by the more boisterous 
passions, but by curiosity, shame, love of imitation, by any thing, even 
indolence : especially if the interest, the temporal interest, suppose, 
which is the end of such self-love, be at a distance. So greatly are pro- 
fligate men mistaken, when they affirm they are wholly governed by inte- 
rcstedness and self-love. And so little cause is there for moralists to 
disclaim this principle. — See p. 104. 



CHAP. V. 



Moral Discipline. 



119 



course of behaviour must necessarily, under the divine govern- 
ment, be our final interest. Thus the principle of virtue, 
improved into a habit, of which improvement we are thus 
capable, toil I plainly be, in proportioyi to the strength of it, a 
security against the danger which finite creatures are in, from 
the very nature of propension, or particular affections. This 
way of putting the matter, supposes particular affections to 
remain in a future state; which it is scarce possible to avoid 
supposing. And if they do; we clearly see, that acquired 
habits of virtue and self-government may be necessary for 
the regulation of them. However, though we were not dis- 
tinctly to take in this supposition, but to speak only in general ; 
the thing really comes to the same. For habits of virtue, 
thus acquired by discipline, are improvement in virtue: and 
improvement in virtue must be advancement in happiness, if 
the government of the universe be moral. 

From- these things we may observe, and it will farther 
shew this our natural and original need of being improved 
by discipline, how it comes to pass, that creatures made 
upright fall ; and that those who preserve their uprightness, 
by so doing, raise themselves to a more secure state of virtue. 
To say that the former is accounted for by the nature of 
liberty, is to say no more, than that an event's actually hap- 
pening is accounted for by a mere possibility of its happen- 
ing. But it seems distinctly conceivable from the very 
nature of particular affections or propensions. For, suppose 
creatures intended for such a particular state of life, for 
which such propensions were necessary : suppose them en- 
dued with such propensions, together with moral under- 
standing, as well including a practical sense of virtue, as a 
speculative perception of it; and that all these several prin- 
ciples, both natural and moral, forming an inward constitu- 
tion of mind, were in the most exact proportion possible ; 
i. e. in a proportion the most exactly adapted to their intended 
state of life; such creatures would be made upright, or 
finitely perfect. Now particular propensions, from their very 
nature, must be felt, the objects of them being present; 
though they cannot be gratified at all, or not with the allow- 
ance of the moral principle. But if they can be gratified 
without its allowance, or by contradicting it; then they must 
be conceived to have some tendency, in how low a degree 
soever, yet some tendency, to induce persons to such forbid- 
den gratification. This tendency, in some one particular 



120 



Of a State of 



PART r, 



propension, may be increased, by the greater frequency of 
occasions naturally exciting it, than of occasions exciting 
others. The least voluntary indulgence in forbidden cir- 
cumstances, though but in thought, will increase this wrong 
tendency; and may increase it further, till, peculiar conjunc- 
tures perhaps conspiring, it becomes effect; and danger of 
deviating from right, ends in actual deviation from it; a 
danger necessarily arising from the very nature of propen- 
sion; and which therefore could not have been prevented, 
though it might have been escaped, or got innocently 
through. The case would be, as if we were to suppose a 
straight path marked out for a person, in which such a 
degree of attention would keep him steady : but if he would 
not attend in this degree, any one of a thousand objects, 
catching his eye, might lead him out of it. Now it is im- 
possible to say, how much even the first full overt act of 
irregularity might disorder the inward constitution ; unsettle 
the adjustments, and alter the proportions, which formed it, 
and in which the uprightness of its make consisted: but 
repetition of irregularities would produce habits. And thus 
the constitution would be spoiled; and creatures made up- 
right, become corrupt and depraved in their settled character, 
proportionably to their repeated irregularities in occasional 
acts. But, on the contrary, these creatures might have im- 
proved and raised themselves, to a higher and more secure 
state of virtue, by the contrary behaviour: by steadily fol- 
lowing the moral principle, supposed to be one part of their 
nature : and thus withstanding that unavoidable danger of 
defection, which necessarily arose from propension, the other 
part of it. For, by thus preserving their integrity for some 
time, their danger would lessen ; since propensions, by being 
inured to submit, would do it more easily and of course : 
and their security against this lessening danger would in- 
crease ; since the moral principle would gain additional 
strength by exercise: both which things are implied in the 
notion of virtuous habits. Thus then vicious indulgence is 
not only criminal in itself, but also depraves the inward con- 
stitution and character. And virtuous self-government is 
not only right in itself, but also improves the inward consti- 
tution or character: and may improve it to such a degree, 
that though we should suppose it impossible, for particular 
affections to be absolutely coincident with the moral princi- 
ple; and consequently should allow, that such creatures as 



CHAP. V. 



Moral Discipline. 



121 



have been above supposed, would for ever remain defectible ; 
yet their danger of actually deviating from right may be 
almost infinitely lessened, and they fully fortified against 
what remains of it; if that may be called danger, against 
which there is an adequate effectual security. But still, 
this their higher perfection may continue to consist in habits 
of virtue formed in a state of discipline, and this their more 
complete security remain to proceed from them. And thus 
it is plainly conceivable, that creatures without blemish, as 
they came out of the hands of God, may be in danger of 
going wrong; and so may stand in need of the security of 
virtuous habits, additional to the moral principle wrought 
into their natures by him. That which is the ground of 
their danger, or their want of security, may be considered 
as a deficiency in them, to which virtuous habits are the 
natural supply. And as they are naturally capable of being 
raised and improved .by discipline, it may be a thing fit 
and requisite, that they should be placed in circumstances 
with an eye to it: in circumstances peculiarly fitted to 
be, to them, a state of discipline for their improvement in 
virtue. 

But how much more strongly must this hold with respect 
to those, who have corrupted their natures, are fallen from 
their original rectitude, and whose passions are become 
excessive by repeated violations of their inward constitution ? 
Upright creatures may want to be improved : depraved 
creatures want to be renewed. Education and discipline, 
which may be in all degrees and sorts of gentleness and of 
severity, is expedient for those : but must be absolutely 
necessary for these. For these, discipline of the severer sort 
too, and in the higher degrees of it, must be necessary, in 
order to wear out vicious habits ; to recover their primitive 
strength of self-government, which indulgence must have 
weakened ; to repair, as well as raise into a habit, the 
moral principle, in order to their arriving at a secure state of 
virtuous happiness. 

Now whoever will consider the thing, may clearly see, that 
the present world is peculiarly Jit to be a state of discipline 
for this purpose, to such as will set themselves to mend and 
improve. For, the various temptations with which we are 
surrounded ; our experience of the deceits of wickedness ; 
having been in many instances led wrong ourselves ; the 
great viciousness of the world ; the infinite disorders con- 



122 



Of a State of 



PART I. 



sequent upon it ; our being made acquainted with pain and 
sorrow, either from our own feeling of it, or from the sight 
of it in others ; these things, though some of them may 
indeed produce wrong effects upon our minds, yet when 
duly reflected upon, have, all of them, a direct tendency to 
bring us to a settled moderation and reasonableness of 
temper : the contrary both to thoughtless levity, and also to 
that unrestrained self-will, and violent bent to follow present 
inclination, which may be observed in undisciplined minds. 
Such experience, as the present state affords, of the frailty of 
our nature ; of the boundless extravagance of ungoverned 
passion ; of the power which an infinite Being has over us, 
by the various capacities of misery which he has given us ; 
in short, that kind and degree of experience, which the 
present state affords us, that the constitution of nature is such 
as to admit the possibility, the danger, and the actual event, 
of creatures losing their innocence and happiness, and be- 
coming vicious and wretched ; hath a tendency to give us a 
practical sense of things very different from a mere specu- 
lative knowledge, that we are liable to vice, and capable of 
misery. And who knows, whether the security of creatures 
in the highest and most settled state of perfection, may not 
in part arise, from their having had such a sense of things 
as this, formed, and habitually fixed within them, in some 
state of probation. And passing through the present world 
with that moral attention, which is necessary to the acting a 
right part in it, may leave everlasting impressions of this 
sort upon our minds. But to be a little more distinct : 
allurements to what is wrong ; difficulties in the discharge 
of our duty ; our not being able to act a uniform right part 
without some thought and care ; and the opportunities which 
we have, or imagine we have, of avoiding what we dislike, 
or obtaining what we desire, by unlawful means, when we 
either cannot do it at all, or at least not so easily, by lawful 
ones ; these things, L e. the snares and temptations of vice, 
are what render the present world peculiarly fit to be a state 
of discipline, to those who will preserve their integrity : 
because they render being upon our guard, resolution, and 
the denial of our passions, necessary in order to that end. 
And the exercise of such particular recollection, intention of 
mind, and self-government, in the practice of virtue, has, 
from the make of our nature, a peculiar tendency to form 
habits of virtue ; as implying, not only a real, but also a 



CHAP. V. 



Moral Discipline. 



123 



more continued, and a more intense exercise of the virtuous 
principle ; or a more constant and a stronger effort of virtue 
exerted into act. Thus suppose a person to know himself 
to be in particular danger, for some time, of doing any thing 
wrong, which yet he fully resolves not to do : continued 
recollection, and keeping upon his guard, in order to make 
good his resolution, is a continued exerting of that act of virtue 
in a high degree, which need have been, and perhaps would 
have been, only instantaneous and weak, had the temptation 
been so. It is indeed ridiculous to assert, that self-denial is 
essential to virtue and piety : but it would have been nearer 
the truth, though not strictly the truth itself, to have said, 
that it is essential to discipline and improvement. For though 
actions materially virtuous, which have no sort of difficulty, 
but are perfectly agreeable to our particular inclinations, may 
possibly be done only from these particular inclinations, and 
so may not be any exercise of the principle of virtue, L e. 
not be virtuous actions at all ; yet, on the contrary, they may 
be an exercise of that principle : and when they are, they 
have a tendency to form and fix the habit of virtue. But 
when the exercise of the virtuous principle is more continued, 
oftener repeated, and more intense ; as it must be in circum- 
stances of danger, temptation, and difficulty, of any kind 
and in any degree ; this tendency is increased proportion- 
ably, and a more confirmed habit is the consequence. 

This undoubtedly holds to a certain length : but how far 
it may hold, I know not. Neither our intellectual powers, 
nor our bodily strength can be improved beyond such a 
degree : and both may be over-wrought. Possibly there 
may be somewhat analogous to this, with respect to the moral 
character ; which is scarce worth considering. And I men- 
tion it only, lest it should come into some persons' thoughts, 
not as an exception to the foregoing observations, which 
perhaps it is ; but as a confutation of them, which it is not. 
And there may be several other exceptions. Observations 
of this kind cannot be supposed to hold minutely, and in 
every case. It is enough that they hold in general. And 
these plainly hold so far, as that from them may be seen 
distinctly, which is all that is intended by them, that the 
present world is peculiarly jit to he a state of discipline, for our 
improvement in virtue and piety : in the same sense as some 
sciences, by requiring and engaging the attention, not to be 
sure of such persons as will not, but of such as will, set 



124 



Of a State of 



part r. 



themselves to them ; are fit to form the mind to habits of 
attention. 

Indeed the present state is so far from proving, in event, a 
discipline of virtue to the generality of men, that, on the con- 
trary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice. And the 
viciousness of the world is, in different ways, the great temp- 
tation, which renders it a state of virtuous discipline, in the 
degree it is, to good men. The whole end, and the whole 
occasion, of mankind's being placed in such a state as the 
present, is not pretended to be accounted for. That which 
appears amidst the general corruption, is, that there are some 
persons, who, having within them the principle of amend- 
ment and recovery, attend to and follow the notices of virtue 
and religion, be they more clear or more obscure, which are 
afforded them ; and that the present world is, not only an 
exercise of virtue in these persons, but an exercise of it in 
ways and degrees, peculiarly apt to improve it : apt to im- 
prove it, in some respects, even beyond what would be, by 
the exercise of it required in a perfectly virtuous society, or 
in a society of equally imperfect virtue with themselves. But 
that the present world does not actually become a state of 
moral discipline to many, even to the generality, i. e. that 
they do not improve or grow better in it, cannot be urged as 
a proof, that it was not intended for moral discipline, by any 
who at all observe the analogy of nature. For, of the nu- 
merous seeds of vegetables and bodies of animals, which are 
adapted and put in the way, to improve to such a point or 
state of natural maturity and perfection, we do not see perhaps 
that one in a million actually does. Far the greatest part of 
them decay before they are improved to it ; and appear to be 
absolutely destroyed. Yet no one, who does not deny all 
final causes, will deny, that those seeds and bodies, which do 
attain to that point of maturity and perfection, answer the 
end for which they were really designed by nature ; and 
therefore that nature designed them for such perfection. 
And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to the present 
purpose, that the appearance of such an amazing waste in na- 
ture, with respect to these seeds and bodies, by foreign causes, 
is to us as unaccountable, as, what is much more terrible, the 
present and future ruin of so many moral agents by them- 
selves, i. e. by vice. 

Against this whole notion of moral discipline, it may be 
objected, in another way ; that so far as a course of beha- 



chap, v . Moral Discipline. 125 

viour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and fear, so 
far it is only a discipline and strengthening of self-love. But 
doing what God commands, because he commands it, is 
obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. And a 
course of such obedience will form habits of it. And a con- 
stant regard to veracity, justice, and charity, may form dis- 
tinct habits of these particular virtues ; and will certainly 
form habits of self-government, and of denying our incli- 
nations, whenever veracity, justice, or charity requires it. 
Nor is there any foundation for this great nicety, with which 
some affect to distinguish in this case, in order to depreciate 
all Religion proceeding from hope or fear. For, veracity, 
justice, and charity, regard to God's authority, and to our 
own chief interest, are not only all three coincident ; but each 
of them is, in itself, a just and natural motive or principle of 
action. And he who begins a good life from any one of 
them, and perseveres in it, as he is already in some degree, 
so he cannot fail of becoming more and more, of that cha- 
racter, which is correspondent to the constitution of nature 
as moral ; and to the relation, which God stands in to us as 
moral governor of it : nor consequently can he fail of obtain- 
ing that happiness, which this constitution and relation ne- 
cessarily suppose connected with that character. 

These several observations, concerning the active principle 
of virtue and obedience to God's commands, are applicable 
to passive submission or resignation to his will: which is 
another essential part of a right character, connected with 
the former, and very much in our power to form ourselves to. 
It may be imagined, that nothing but afflictions can give 
occasion for, or require this virtue ; that it can have no re- 
spect to, nor be any way necessary to qualify for, a state of 
perfect happiness : but it is not experience which can make 
us think thus. Prosperity itself, whilst any thing supposed 
desirable is not ours, begets extravagant and unbounded 
thoughts. Imagination is altogether as much a source of 
discontent, as any thing in our external condition. It is in- 
deed true, that there can be no scope for patience, when 
sorrow shall be no more : but there may be need of a temper 
of mind, which shall have been formed by patience. For, 
though self-love, considered merely as an active principle 
leading us to pursue our chief interest, cannot but be uni- 
formly coincident with the principle of obedience to God's 
commands, our interest being rightly understood ; because 



126 



Of a State of 



PART I. 



this obedience, and the pursuit of our own chief interest, 
must be in every case one and the same thing : yet it may 
be questioned, whether self-love, considered merely as the 
desire of our own interest or happiness, can, from its nature, 
be thus absolutely and uniformly coincident with the will of 
God; any more than particular affections can :* coincident 
in such sort, as not to be liable to be excited upon occasions 
and in degrees, impossible to be gratified consistently with 
the constitution of things, or the divine appointments. So 
that habits of resignation may, upon this account, be requisite 
for all creatures: habits, I say; which signify what is formed 
by use. However, in general it is obvious that both self- 
love and particular affection in human creatures, considered 
only as passive feelings, distort and rend the mind ; and 
therefore stand in need of discipline. Now denial of those 
particular affections, in a course of active virtue and obedi- 
ence to God's will, has a tendency to moderate them ; and 
seems also to have a tendency to habituate the mind, to be 
easy and satisfied with that degree of happiness which is al- 
lotted us, i. e. to moderate self-love. But the proper dis- 
cipline for resignation is affliction. For a right behaviour 
under that trial ; recollecting ourselves so as to consider it 
in the view, in which Religion teaches us to consider it, as 
from the hand of God ; receiving it as what he appoints, or 
thinks proper to permit, in his world and under his govern- 
ment ; this will habituate the mind to a dutiful submission. 
And such submission, together with the active principle of 
obedience, make up the temper and character in us, which 
answers to his sovereignty ; and which absolutely belongs to 
the condition of our being, as dependent creatures. Nor 
can it be said, that this is only breaking the mind to a sub- 
mission to mere power ; for mere power may be accidental, 
and precarious, and usurped : but it is forming within our- 
selves the temper of resignation to his rightful authority, who 
is, by nature, supreme over all. 

Upon the whole : such a character, and such qualifications, 
are necessary for a mature state of life in the present world, as 
nature alone does in no wise bestow ; but has put it upon us, 
in great part, to acquire, in our progress from one stage of life 
to another, from childhood to mature age ; put it upon us to 
acquire them, by giving us capacities of doing it, and by 
placing us, in the beginning of life, in a condition fit for it. 

* P. 117. 



chap. v. Moral Discipline. 127 

And this is a general analogy to our condition in the present 
world, as in a state of moral discipline for another. It is in vain 
then to object against the credibility of the present life's being 
intended for this purpose, that all the trouble and the danger 
unavoidably accompanying such discipline, might have been 
saved us, by our being made at once the creatures and the 
characters, which we were to be. For we experience, that what 
we were to be, was to be the effect of what we would do: and 
that the general conduct of nature is, not to save us trouble 
or danger, but to make us capable of going through them, 
and to put it upon us to do so. Acquirements of our own, 
experience and habits, are the natural supply to our defici- 
encies, and security against our dangers : since it is as plainly 
natural to set ourselves to acquire the qualifications, as the 
external things, which we stand in need of. In particular, 
it is as plainly a general law of nature, that we should with 
regard to our temporal interest, form and cultivate practical 
principles within us, by attention, use, and discipline, as any 
thing whatever is a natural law ; chiefly in the beginning of 
life, but also throughout the whole course of it. And the al- 
ternative is left to our choice : either to improve ourselves, 
and better our condition ; or, in default of such improvement, 
to remain deficient and wretched. It is therefore perfectly 
credible, from the analogy of nature, that the same may be 
our case, with respect to the happiness of a future state, and 
the qualifications necessary for it. 

There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the 
present world's being a state of probation • that it is a theatre 
of action, for the manifestation of person's characters, with 
respect to a future one : not to be sure to an all-knowing 
Being, but to his creation or part of it. This may 3 perhaps, 
be only a consequence of our being in a state of probation in 
the other senses. However, it is not impossible, that men's 
shewing and making manifest, what is in their heart, what 
their real character is, may have respect to a future life, in 
ways and manners which we are not acquainted with : parti- 
cularly it may be a means, for the Author of Nature does not 
appear to do any thing without means, of their being dis- 
posed of suitably to their characters ; and of its being known 
to the creation, by way of example, that they are thus dis- 
posed of. But not to enter upon any conjectural account of 
this ; one may just mention, that the manifestation of persons' 
characters contributes very much, in various ways, to the car- 



128 



Of the Opinion of Necessity, part u 



rying on a great part of that general course of nature, re- 
specting mankind, which comes under our observation at pre- 
sent. I shall only add, that probation, in both these senses, 
as well as in that treated of in the foregoing chapter, is im- 
plied in moral government; since by persons' behaviour under 
it, their characters cannot but be manifested, and if they be- 
have well, improved. 

CHAP. VL 

Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered as 
influencing Practice. 

Throughout the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the 
condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this world 
only, and under the government of God which we experi- 
ence, is greatly analogous to our condition, as designed for 
another world, or under that farther government, which Re- 
ligion teaches us. If therefore any assert, as a Fatalist must, 
that the opinion of universal Necessity is reconcileable with 
the former ; there immediately arises a question in the way 
of analogy, whether he must not also own it to be reconcile- 
able with the latter, i. e. with the system of Religion itself, 
and the proof of it. The reader then will observe, that the 
question now before us is not absolute, Whether the opinion 
of Fate be reconcileable with Religion ; bat hypothetical, 
Whether, upon supposition of its being reconcileable with the 
constitution of Nature, it be not reconcileable with Religion 
also : or, what pretence a Fatalist, not other persons, but a 
Fatalist, has to conclude from his opinion, that there can be 
no such thing as Religion. And as the puzzle and obscurity, 
which must unavoidably arise from arguing upon so absurd 
a supposition as that of universal Necessity, will, I fear, easily 
be seen ; it will, I hope, as easily be excused. 

But since it has been all along taken for granted, as a thing 
proved, that there is an intelligent Author of Nature, or na- 
tural Governor of the world ; and since an objection may be 
made against the proof of this, from the opinion of universal 
Necessity, as it may be supposed, that such Necessity will 
itself account for the origin and preservation of all things : it 
is requisite, that this objection be distinctly answered; or 
that it be shewn, that a Fatality supposed consistent with 
what we certainly experience, does not destroy the proof of 
an intelligent Author and Governor of Nature ; before we 



CHAP. VI. 



as influencing Practice. 



129 



proceed to consider, whether it destroys the proof of a moral 
Governor of it, or of our being in a state of Religion. 

Now, when it is said by a Fatalist, that the whole consti- 
tution of Nature, and the actions of men, that every thing, 
and every mode and circumstance of every thing, is necessary, 
and could not possibly have been otherwise ; it is to be ob- 
served, that this Necessity does not exclude deliberation, 
choice, preference, and acting from certain principles, and to 
certain ends : because all this is matter of undoubted expe- 
rience, acknowledged by all, and what every man may, every 
moment, be conscious of. And from hence it follows, that 
Necessity, alone and of itself, is in no sort an account of the 
constitution of Nature, and how things came to be and to con- 
tinue as they are ; but only an account of this circumstance 
relating to their origin and continuance, that they could 
not have been otherwise, than they are and have been. 
The assertion, that every thing is by Necessity of Nature, 
is not an answer to the question ; Whether the world came 
into being as it is, by an intelligent Agent forming it thus, 
or not: but to quite another question; Whether it came 
into being as it is, in that way and manner which we call 
necessarily \ or in that way and manner which we call freely. 
For suppose farther, that one who was a Fatalist, and one 
who kept to his natural sense of things, and believed him- 
self a Free Agent, were disputing together, and vindicating 
their respective opinions • and they should happen to in- 
stance in a house : they would agree that it was built by an 
architect. Their difference concerning Necessity and Free- 
dom would occasion no difference of judgment concerning 
this; but only concerning another matter; whether the 
architect built it necessarily or freely. Suppose then they 
should proceed to inquire concerning the constitution of na- 
ture : in a lax way of speaking, one of them might say, it was 
by Necessity ; and the other, by Freedom : but if they had 
any meaning to their words, as the latter must mean a Free 
Agent, so the former must at length be reduced to mean an 
Agent, whether he would say one or more, acting by Neces- 
sity : for abstract notions can do nothing. Indeed we ascribe 
to God a necessary existence, uncaused by any agent. For 
we find within ourselves the idea of infinity, i. e. immensity 
and eternity, impossible, even in imagination, to be removed 
out of being. We seem to discern intuitively, that there 
must, and cannot but be, somewhat, external to ourselves, 

i 



130 Of the Opinion of Necessity, part i. 

answering this idea, or the archetype of it. And from hence 
(for this abstract, as much as any other, implies ^concrete) we 
conclude, that there is, and cannot but be, an infinite and 
immense eternal Being existing, prior to all design contribut- 
ing to his existence, and exclusive of it. And from the scan- 
tiness of language, a manner of speaking has been introduced ; 
that Necessity is the foundation, the reason, the account of 
the existence of God. But it is not alleged, nor can it be at 
all intended, that every thing exists as it does, by this kind of 
Necessity ; a Necessity antecedent in nature to design : it 
cannot, I say, be meant that every thing exists as it does, by 
this kind of Necessity, upon several accounts ; and particu- 
larly because it is admitted, that design, in the actions of men, 
contributes to many alterations in nature. For if any deny 
this, I shall not pretend to reason with them. 

From these things it follows ; First, That when a Fatalist 
asserts, that every thing is by Necessity, he must mean, by an 
Agent acting necessarily ; he must I say mean this, for I am 
very sensible he would not choose to mean it : and Secondly, 
That the Necessity, by which such an Agent is supposed to 
act, does not exclude intelligence and design. So that, were 
the system of Fatality admitted, it would just as much ac- 
count for the formation of the world, as for the structure of 
a house, and no more. Necessity as much requires and 
supposes a Necessary Agent, as Freedom requires and sup- 
poses a Free Agent, to be the former of the world. And 
the appearances of design and of filial causes in the constitu- 
tion of nature as really prove this acting Agent to be an intel- 
ligent designer, or to act from choice ; upon the scheme of 
Necessity, supposed possible, as upon that of Freedom. 

It appearing thus, that the notion of Necessity does not 
destroy the proof, that there is an intelligent Author of Na- 
ture and natural Governor of the world; the present ques- 
tion, which the analogy before mentioned* suggests, and 
which, I think, it will answer, is this : Whether the opinion 
of Necessity, supposed consistent with possibility, with the 
constitution of the world, and the natural government which 
we experience exercised over it, destroys all reasonable ground 
of belief, that we are in a state of Religion : or whether that 
opinion be reconcileable with Religion ; with the system, 
and the proof of it. 

Suppose then a Fatalist to educate any one, from his youth 

* P. 128. 



CHAP. VI. 



as influencing Practice, 



131 



up, in hisovvn principles ; that the child should reason upon 
them, and conclude, that since he cannot possibly behave 
otherwise than he does, he is not a subject of blame or com- 
mendation, nor can deserve to be rewarded or punished : 
imagine him to eradicate the very perceptions of blame and 
commendation out of his mind, by means of this system ; to 
form his temper, and character, and behaviour to it ; and 
from it to judge of the treatment he was to expect, say, from 
reasonable men, upon his coming abroad into the world : as 
the Fatalist judges from this system, what he is to expect 
from the Author of Nature, and with regard to a future state, 
I cannot forbear stopping here to ask, whether any one of 
common sense would think fit, that a child should be put 
upon these speculations, and be left to apply them to prac- 
tice. And a man has little pretence to reason, who is not 
sensible, that we are all children in speculations of this kind. 
However, the child would doubtless be highly delighted to 
find himself freed from the restraints of fear and shame, with * 
which his play-fellows were fettered and embarrassed; and 
highly conceited in his superior knowledge, so far beyond 
his years. But conceit and vanity would be the least bad 
part of the influence, which these principles must have, when 
thus reasoned and acted upon, during the course of his edu- 
cation. He must either be allowed to go on and be the 
plague of all about him, and himself too, even to his own 
destruction : or else correction must be continually made use 
of, to supply the want of those natural perceptions of blame 
and commendation, which we have supposed to be removed ; 
and to give him a practical impression, of what he had rea- 
soned himself out of the belief of, that he was in fact an ac- 
countable child, and to be punished for doing what he was 
forbid. It is therefore in reality impossible, but that the 
correction which he must meet with, in the course of his edu- 
cation, must convince him, that if the scheme he was instructed 
in were not false ; yet that he reasoned inconclusively upon 
it, and somehow or other misapplied it to practice and com- 
mon life ,{ as what the Fatalist experiences of the conduct of 
Providence at present, ought in all reason to convince him, 
that this scheme is misapplied, when applied to the subject 
of Religion.* But supposing the child's temper could remain 
still formed to the system, and his expectation of the treat- 
ment he was to have in the world be regulated by it ; so as 

* P. 139. 
i 2 



132 



Of the Opinion of Necessity, 



PART T. 



to expect that no reasonable man would blame or punish him, 
for any thing which he should do, because he could not help 
doing it : upon this supposition it is manifest he would, upon 
his coming abroad into the world, be insupportable to society, 
and the treatment which he would receive from it would ren- 
der it so to him ; and he could not fail of doing somewhat, 
very soon, for which he would be delivered over into the 
hands of civil justice. And thus, in the end, he would be 
convinced of the obligations he was under to his wise in- 
structor. Or suppose this scheme of Fatality, in any other 
way, applied to practice, such practical application of it will 
be found equally absurd ; equally fallacious in a practical 
sense : for instance, that if a man be destined to live such a 
time, he shall live to it, though he take no care of his own 
preservation ; or if he be destined to die before that time, no 
care can prevent it : therefore all care about preserving one's 
life is to be neglected : which is the fallacy instanced in by 
* the ancients. But now on the contrary, none of these prac- 
tical absurdities can be drawn, from reasoning upon the sup- 
position, that we are free ; but all such reasoning with regard 
to the common affairs of life is justified by experience. And 
therefore, though it were admitted that this opinion of Neces- 
sity were speculatively true ; yet, with regard to practice, it 
is as if it were false, so far as our experience reaches ; that 
is, to the whole of our present life. For, the constitution of 
the present' world, and the condition in which we are actu- 
ally placed, is, as if we were free. And it may perhaps 
justly be concluded, that since the whole process of action, 
through every step of it, suspense, deliberation, inclining one 
way, determining, and at last doing as we determine, is as if 
we were free, therefore we are so. But the thing here in- 
sisted upon is, that under the present natural government of 
the world, we find we are treated and dealt with, as if we 
were free, prior to all consideration whether we are or not. 
Were this opinion therefore of Necessity admitted to be ever 
so true ; yet such is in fact our condition and the natural 
course of things, that whenever we apply it to life and prac- 
tice, this application of it always misleads us, and cannot but 
mislead us, in a most dreadful manner, with regard to our 
present interest. And how can people think themselves so 
very secure then, that the same application of the same opi- 
nion may not mislead them also, in some analogous manner, 
with respect to a future, a more general, and more important 



chap. vi. as influencing Practice. 133 

interest? For, Religion being a practical subject; and the 
analogy of nature shewing us, that we have not faculties to 
apply this opinion, were it a true one, to practical subjects ; 
whenever we do apply it to the subject of Religion, and 
thence conclude, that we are free from its obligations, it is 
plain this conclusion cannot be depended upon. There will 
still remain just reason to think, whatever appearances are, 
that we deceive ourselves ; in somewhat of a like manner, as 
when people fancy they can draw contradictory conclusions 
from the idea of infinity. 

From these things together, the attentive reader will see it 
follows, that if upon supposition of Freedom the evidence of 
Religion be conclusive, it remains so, upon supposition of 
Necessity, because the notion of Necessity is not applicable 
to practical subjects : i. e. with respect to them, is as if it were 
not true. \ Nor does this contain any reflection upon reason : 
but only upon what is unreasonable. For to pretend to act 
upon reason, in opposition to practical principles, which the 
Author of our Nature gave us to act upon ; and to pretend to 
apply our reason to subjects, with regard to which, our own 
short views, and even our experience, will shew us, it cannot 
be depended upon ; and such, at best, the subject of Neces- 
sity must be ; this is vanity, conceit, and unreasonableness. 

But this is not all. For we find within ourselves a will, 
and are conscious of a character. Now if this, in us, be 
reconcileable with Fate, it is reconcileable with it, in the 
Author of Nature. And besides, natural government and final 
causes imply a character and a will in the Governor and 
Designer f a will concerning the creatures whom he governs. 
The Author of Nature then being certainly of some charac- 
ter or other, notwithstanding Necessity ; it is evident this 
Necessity is as reconcileable with the particular character of 
benevolence, veracity, and justice in him, which attributes 
are the foundation of Religion, as with any other character : 
since we find this Necessity no more hinders men from being 
benevolent, than cruel ; true, than faithless ; just, than un- 
just ; or if the Fatalist pleases, what we call unjust. For it 
is said indeed, that what, upon supposition of Freedom, would 
be just punishment ; upon supposition of Necessity, becomes 

* By will and character is meant that, which, in speaking of men, we 
should express, not only by these words, but also by the words temper, 
taste, dispositions, practical principles : that whole frame of mind, from whence 
we act in one manner rather than another. 



134 



Of the Opinion of Necessity, part i. 



manifestly unjust: because it is punishment inflicted fordoing 
that which persons could not avoid doing. As if the Necessity, 
which is supposed to destroy the injustice of murder, for in- 
stance, would not also destroy the injustice of punishing it. 
However, as little to the purpose as this objection is in itself, it 
is very much to the purpose to observe from it, how the notions 
of justice and injustice remain, even whilst we endeavour to 
suppose them removed ; how they force themselves upon the 
mind, even whilst we are making suppositions destructive of 
them : for there is not, perhaps, a man in the world, but 
would be ready to make this objection at first thought. 

But though it is most evident, that universal Necessity, if 
it be reconcileable with any thing, is reconcileable with that 
character in the Author of Nature, which is the foundation 
of Religion ; " Yet, does it not plainly destroy the proof, 
that he is of that character, and consequently the proof of 
Religion ?" By no means. For we find, that happiness and 
misery are not our fate, in any such sense as not to be the 
consequences of our behaviour ; but that they are the con- 
sequences of it.* We find God exercises the same kind of 
government over us, with that, which a father exercises over 
his children, and a civil magistrate over his subjects. Now, 
whatever becomes of abstract questions concerning Liberty 
and Necessity, it evidently appears to us, that veracity and 
justice must be the natural rule and measure of exercising 
this authority or government, to a Being who can have no 
competitions, or interfering of interests, with his creatures 
and his subjects. 

But as the doctrine of Liberty, though we experience its 
truth, may be perplexed with difficulties, which run up into 
the most abstruse of all speculations ; and as the opinion of 
Necessity seems to be the very basis, upon which infidelity 
grounds itself; it may be of some use to offer a more par- 
ticular proof of the obligations of Religion, which may dis- 
tinctly be shewn not to be destroyed by this opinion. 

The proof from final causes of an intelligent Author of 
Nature is not affected by the opinion of Necessity ; sup- 
posing Necessity a thing possible in itself, and reconcilea- 
ble with the constitution of things. f And it is a matter of 
fact, independent on this or any other speculation, that he 
governs the world by the method of rewards and punish- 
ments \% and also that he hath given us a moral faculty, by 
* Chap, ii, f P- 128, &c. \ Chap. ii. 



chap. vi. as influencing Practice. 



135 



which we distinguish between actions, and approve some as 
virtuous and of good desert, and disapprove others as vicious 
and of ill desert.* Now this moral discernment implies, in 
the notion of it, a rule of action, and a rule of a very peculiar 
kind : for it carries in it authority and a right of direction ; 
authority in such a sense, as that we cannot depart from it 
without being self-condemned. f And that the dictates of 
this moral faculty, which are by nature a rule to us, are 
moreover the laws of God, laws in a sense including sanc- 
tions; may be thus proved. Consciousness of a rule or 
guide of action, in creatures who are capable of considering 
it as given them by their Maker, not only raises immediately 
a sense of duty, but also a sense of security in following it, 
and of danger in deviating from it. A direction of the 
Author of Nature, given to creatures capable of looking 
upon it as such, is plainly a command from him : and a 
command from him necessarily includes in it, at least, an 
implicit promise in case of obedience, or threatening in case 
of disobedience. But then the sense or perception of good 
and ill desert, J which is contained in the moral discernment, 
renders the sanction explicit, and makes it appear, as one 
may say, expressed. For since his method of government 
is to reward and punish actions, his having annexed to some 
actions an inseparable sense of good desert, and to others of 
ill, this surely amounts to declaring, upon whom his punish- 
ments shall be inflicted, and his rewards be bestowed. For 
he must have given us this discernment and sense of things, 
as a presentiment of what is to be hereafter : that is, by way 
of information beforehand, what we are finally to expect in 
this world. There is then most evident ground to think, 
that the government of God, upon the whole, will be found 
to correspond to the nature which he has given us : and that 
in the upshot and issue of things, happiness and misery 
shall, in fact and event, be made to follow virtue and vice 
respectively ; as he has already, in so peculiar a manner, 
associated the ideas of them in our minds. And from hence 
might easily be deduced the obligations of religious wor- 
ship, were it only to be considered as a means of preserving 
upon our minds a sense of this moral government of God, 
and securing our obedience to it: which yet is an extremely 
imperfect view of that most important duty. 

Now I say, no objection from Necessity can lie against 
* Dissert. II. f Serm. 2. at the Rolls, % Dissert. IL 



136 



Of the Opinio?! of Necessity, 



PART I. 



this general proof of Religion. None against the propo- 
sition reasoned upon, that we have such a moral fa'culty 
and discernment ; because this is a mere matter of fact, a 
thing of experience, that human kind is thus constituted : 
none against the conclusion ; because it is immediate and 
wholly from this fact. For the conclusion, that God will 
finally reward the righteous and punish the wicked, is not 
here drawn, from its appearing to us fit* that he should ; 
but from its appearing, that he has told us, he will. And 
this he hath certainly told us, in the promise and threaten- 
ing, which it hath been observed the notion of a command 
implies, and the sense of good and ill desert which he has 
given us, more distinctly expresses. And this reasoning 
from fact is confirmed, and in some degree even verified, by 
other facts; by the natural tendencies of virtue and of vice;f 
and by this, that God, in the natural course of his provi- 
dence, punishes vicious actions as mischievous to society ; 
and also vicious actions as such in the strictest sense.J So 
that the general proof of Religion is unanswerably real, even 
upon the wild supposition which we are arguing upon. 

It must likewise be observed farther, that natural Religion 
hath, besides this, an external evidence ; which the doctrine 
of Necessity, if it could be true, would not affect. For sup- 
pose a person, by the observations and reasoning above, or 
by any other, convinced of the truth of Religion; that there 
is a God, who made the world, who is the moral Governor 
and Judge of mankind, and will upon the whole deal with 
every one according to his works : I say, suppose a person 
convinced of this by reason ; but to know nothing at all of 

* However, I am far from intending to deny, that the will of God is 
determined, by what is fit, by the right and reason of the case ; though 
one chooses to decline matters of such abstract speculation, and to speak 
with caution when one does speak of them. But if it be intelligible to say, 
that it is Jit and reasonable for every one to consult his own happiness, then 
Jitness of action, or the right and reason of the case, is an intelligible manner 
of speaking. And it seems as inconceivable, to suppose God to approve 
one course of action, or one end, preferably to another, which yet his 
acting at all from design implies that he does, without supposing some- 
what prior in that end, to be the ground of the preference ; as to suppose 
him to discern an abstract proposition to be true, without supposing 
somewhat prior in it, to be the ground of the discernment. It doth not 
therefore appear, that moral right is any more relative to perception, than 
abstract truth is ; or that it is any more improper, to speak of the fitness 
and Tightness of actions and ends, as founded in the nature of things, 
than to speak of abstract truth, as thus founded. 

f P. 93. X P. 87, &c. 



chap. vi. as influencing Practice. 337 

antiquity, or the present state of mankind : it would be na- 
tural 4 for such a one to be inquisitive, what was the history 
of this system of doctrine ; at what time, and in what man- 
ner, it came first into the world ; and whether it were be- 
lieved by any considerable part of it. And were he upon 
inquiry to find, that a particular person, in a late age, first 
of all proposed it, as a deduction of reason, and that man- 
kind were before wholly ignorant of it; then, though its 
evidence from reason would remain, there would be no ad- 
ditional probability of its truth, from the account of its dis- 
covery. But instead of this being the fact of the case, on 
the contrary, he would find, what could not but afford him 
a very strong confirmation of its truth : First, That some- 
what of this system, with more or fewer additions and alter- 
ations, hath been professed in all ages and countries, of 
which, we have any certain information relating to this mat- 
ter. Secondly, That it is certain historical fact, so far as we 
can trace things up, that this whole system of belief, that 
there is one God, the Creator and moral Governor of the 
world, and that mankind is in a state of Religion, was re- 
ceived in the first ages. And Thirdly, That as there is no 
hint or intimation in history, that this system was first rea- 
soned out ; so there is express historical or traditional evi- 
dence, as ancient as history, that it was taught first by reve- 
lation. Now these things must be allowed to be of great 
weight. The first of them, general consent, shews this sys- 
tem to be conformable to the common sense of mankind. 
The second, namely, that Religion was believed in the first 
ages of the world, especially as it does not appear that there 
were then any superstitious or false additions to it, cannot 
but be a farther confirmation of its truth. For it is a proof 
of this alternative : either that it came into the world by 
revelation ; or that it is natural, obvious, and forces itself 
upon the mind. The former of these is the conclusion of 
learned men. And whoever will consider, how unapt for 
speculation rude and uncultivated minds are, will, perhaps 
from hence alone, be strongly inclined to believe it the truth. 
And as it is shewn in the Second Part* of this Treatise, that 
there is nothing of such peculiar presumption against a re- 
velation in the beginning of the world, as there is supposed 
to be against subsequent ones : a sceptic could not, I think, 
give any account, which would appear more probable even 

* Chap. ii. 



138 Of the Opinion of Necessity, part i. 

to himself, of the early pretences 4o revelation; than by- 
supposing some real original one, from whence they were 
copied. And the third thing above mentioned, that there 
is express historical or traditional evidence as ancient as 
history, of the system of Religion being taught mankind by 
revelation ; this must be admitted as some degree of real 
proof, that it was so taught. For why should not the most 
ancient tradition be admitted, as some additional proof of a 
fact, against which there is no presumption ? And this proof 
is mentioned here, because it has its weight to shew, that 
Religion came into the world by revelation, prior to all con- 
sideration of the proper authority of any book supposed to 
contain it ; and even prior to all consideration, whether the 
revelation itself be uneorruptly handed down, and related, 
or mixed and darkened with fables. Thus the historical 
account, which we have, of the origin of Religion, taking in 
all circumstances, is a real confirmation of its truth, no way 
affected by the opinion of Necessity. And the external. 
evidence, even of natural Religion, is by no means incon- 
siderable. 

But it is carefully to be observed, and ought to be recol- 
lected after all proofs of virtue and religion, which are only 
general ; that as speculative reason may be neglected, pre- 
judiced, and deceived, so also may our moral understanding 
be impaired and perverted, and the dictates of it not impar- 
tially attended to. This indeed proves nothing against the 
reality of our speculative or practical faculties of perception; 
against their being intended by nature, to inform us in the 
theory of things, and instruct us how we are to behave, and 
what we are to expect in consequence of our behaviour. Yet 
our liableness, in the degree we are liable, to prejudice and 
perversion, is a most serious admonition to us to be upon 
our guard, with respect to what is of such consequence, as 
our determinations concerning virtue and religion ; and par- 
ticularly not to take custom, and fashion, and slight notions 
of honour, or imaginations of present ease, use, and conve- 
nience to mankind, for the only moral rule.* 

The foregoing observations, drawn from the nature of the 
thing, and the history of Religion, amount, when taken to- 
gether, to a real practical proof of it, not to be confuted : 
such a proof as, considering the infinite importance of the 
thing, I apprehend, would be admitted fully sufficient, in 

* Dissert. II. 



chap. vi. as influencing Practice. 



139 



reason, to influence the actions of men, who act upon thought 
and reflection; if it were admitted that there is no proof of 
the contrary. But it may be said : " There are many pro- 
babilities, which cannot indeed be confuted, i. e. shewn to 
be no probabilities, and yet may be overbalanced by greater 
probabilities on the other side ; much more by demonstra- 
tion. And there is no occasion to object against particular 
arguments alleged for an opinion, when the opinion itself 
may be clearly shewn to be false, without meddling with 
such arguments at all, but leaving them just as they are.* 
Now the method of government by rewards and punishments, 
and especially rewarding and punishing good and ill desert 
as such respectively, must go upon supposition, that we are 
Free and not Necessary Agents. And it is incredible, that 
the Author of Nature should govern us upon a supposition as 
true, which he knows to be false ; and therefore absurd to 
think, he will reward or punish us for our actions hereafter ; 
especially that he will do it under the notion, that they are 
of good or ill desert." Here then the matter is brought to a 
point. And the answer to all this is full, and not to be evaded : 
that the whole constitution and course of things, the whole 
analogy of providence, shews beyond possibility of doubt, 
that the conclusion from this reasoning is false ; wherever the 
fallacy lies. The doctrine of freedom indeed clearly shews 
where : in supposing ourselves Necessary, when in truth we 
are Free Agents. But upon the supposition of Necessity, 
the fallacy lies in taking for granted, that it is incredible 
Necessary Agents should be rewarded and punished. But 
that, some how or other, the conclusion now mentioned is 
false, is most certain. For it is fact, that God does govern 
even brute creatures by the method of rewards and punish- 
ments, in the natural course of things. And men are re- 
warded and punished for their actions, punished for actions 
mischievous to society as being so, punished for vicious ac- 
tions as such ; by the natural instrumentality of each other, 
under the present conduct of Providence. Nay even the 
affection of gratitude, and the passion of resentment, and the 
rewards and punishments following from them, which in 
general are to be considered as natural, i. e. from the Author 
of Nature ; these rewards and punishments, being naturallyf 
annexed to actions considered as implying good intention 
and good desert, ill intention and ill desert; these natural 
* P. 51, 57. t Serm. 8th, at the Rolls, 



140 Of the Opinion of Necessity, 8$c. parti. 

rewards and punishments, I sa} 7 , are as much a contradiction 
to the conclusion above, and shew its falsehood, as a more 
exact and complete rewarding and punishing of good and 
ill desert as such. So that if it be incredible, that Necessary 
Agents should be thus rewarded and punished ; then, men 
are not necessary but free ; since it is matter of fact, that they 
are thus rewarded and punished. But if, on the contrary, 
which is the supposition we have been arguing upon, it be 
insisted, that men are Necessary Agents ; then, there is no- 
thing incredible in the farther supposition of Necessary 
Agents being thus rewarded and punished : since we our- 
selves are thus dealt with. 

From the whole therefore it must follow, that a Necessity 
supposed possible, and reconcileable with the constitution 
of things, does in no sort prove that the Author of Nature 
will not, nor destroy the proof that he will, finally and upon 
the whole, in his eternal government, render his creatures 
happy or miserable, by some means or other, as they behave 
well or ill. Or, to express this conclusion in words conform- 
able to the title of the Chapter, the analogy of nature shews 
us, that the opinion of Necessity, considered as practical, is 
false. And if Necessity, upon the supposition above men- 
tioned, doth not destroy the proof of natural Religion, it 
evidently makes no alteration in the proof of revealed. 

From these things likewise we may learn, in what sense to 
understand that general assertion, that the opinion of Neces- 
sity is essentially destructive of all religion. First, in a prac- 
tical sense ; that by this notion, atheistical men pretend to 
satisfy and encourage themselves in vice, and justify to others 
their disregard to all religion. And secondly, in the strictest 
sense ; that it is a contradiction to the whole constitution of 
nature, and to what we may every moment experience in 
ourselves, and so overturns every thing. But by no means 
is this assertion to be understood, as if Necessity, supposing 
it could possibly be reconciled with the constitution of things 
and with what we experience, were not also reconcileable with 
Religion : for upon this supposition, it demonstrably is so. 



chap. vii. The Government of God, 8$c. 



141 



CHAP. VII. 

Of the Government of God, considered as a Scheme or 
Constitution, imperfectly comprehended. 

Though it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that the 
analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the general 
doctrine of Religion, and to the several particular things 
contained in it, considered as so many matters of fact ; and 
likewise that it shews this credibility not to be destroyed by 
any notions of Necessity : yet still, objections may be insisted 
upon, against the wisdom, equity, and goodness of the di- 
vine government implied in the notion of Religion, and 
against the method by which this government is conducted ; 
to which objections analogy can be no direct answer. For 
the credibility, or the certain truth, of a matter of fact, does 
not immediately prove any thing concerning the wisdom or 
goodness of it: and analogy can do no more, immediately or 
directly, than shew such and such things to be true or cre- 
dible, considered only as matters of fact. But still, if, upon 
supposition of a moral constitution of nature and a moral 
government over it, analogy suggests and makes it credible, 
that this government must be a scheme, system, or constitu- 
tion of government, as distinguished from a number of single 
unconnected acts of distributive justice and goodness ; and 
likewise, that it must be a scheme, so imperfectly compre- 
hended, and of such a sort in other respects, as to afford a 
direct general answer to all objections against the justice and 
goodness of it: then analogy is, remotely, of great service in 
answering those objections ; both by suggesting the answer, 
and she wins: it to be a credible one.^ 

Now this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case. For, 
First, Upon supposition that God exercises a moral govern- 
ment over the world, the analogy of his natural government 
suggests and makes it credible, that his moral government 
must be a scheme, quite beyond our comprehension: and 
this affords a general answer to all objections against the jus- 
tice and goodness of it. And, Secondly, A more distinct ob- 
servation of some particular things contained in God's scheme 
of natural Government, the like things being supposed, by 
analogy, to be contained in his moral government, will 
farther shew, how little weight is to be laid upon these ob- 
jections. 



142 



The Government of God, 



PART I. 



I. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral govern- 
ment over the world, the analogy of his natural government 
suggests and makes it credible, that his moral government 
must be a scheme, quite beyond our comprehension ; and this 
affords a general answer to all objections against the justice 
and goodness of it. It is most obvious, analogy renders it 
highly credible, that, upon supposition of a moral govern- 
ment, it must be a scheme: for the world, and the whole 
natural government of it, appears to be so : to be a scheme, 
system, or constitution, whose parts correspond to each other, 
and to a whole; as really as any work of art, or as any parti- 
cular model of a civil constitution and government. In this 
great scheme of the natural world, individuals have various 
peculiar relations to other individuals of their own species. 
And whole species are, we find, variously related to other spe- 
cies, upon this earth. Nor do we know, how much farther 
these kinds of relations may extend. And, as there is not any 
action or natural event, which we are acquainted with, so 
single and unconnected, as not to have a respect to some 
other actions and events; so possibly each of them, when it 
has not an immediate, may yet have a remote, natural relation 
to other actions and events, much beyond the compass of this 
present world. There seems indeed nothing, from whence 
we can so much as make a conjecture, whether all creatures, 
actions, and events, throughout the whole of nature, have re- 
lations to each other. But, as it is obvious, that all events 
have future unknown consequences; so if we trace any, as 
far as we can go, into what is connected with it, we shall 
find, that if such event were not connected with somewhat 
farther in nature unknown to us, somewhat both past and 
present, such event could not possibly have been at all. Nor 
can we give the whole account of any one thing whatever ; 
of all its causes, ends, and necessary adjuncts ; those adjuncts, 
I mean, without which it could not have been. By this most 
astonishing connexion, these reciprocal correspondencies and 
mutual relations, every thing which we see in the course of 
nature is actually brought about. And things seemingly 
the most insignificant imaginable are perpetually observed to 
be necessary conditions to other things of the greatest impor- 
tance: so that any one thing whatever may, for ought we 
know to the contrary, be a necessary condition to any other. 
The natural world then, and natural government of it, being 
such an incomprehensible scheme; so incomprehensible, that 



chap. vii. a Scheme incomprehensible. 



143 



a man must, really in the literal sense, know nothing at all, 
who is not sensible of his ignorance in it; this immediately 
suggests, and strongly shews the credibility, that the moral 
world and government of it may be so too. Indeed the na- 
tural and moral constitution and government of the world are 
so, connected, as to make up together but one scheme: and 
it is highly probable, that the first is formed and carried on 
merely in subserviency to the latter ; as the vegetable world 
is for the animal, and organized bodies for minds. But the 
thing intended here is, without inquiring how far the admini- 
stration of the natural world is subordinate to that of the mo- 
ral, only to observe the credibility, that one should be an- 
alogous or similar to the other: that therefore every act of 
divine justice and goodness may be supposed to look much 
beyond itself, and its immediate object; may have some refer- 
ence to other parts of God's moral administration, and to a 
general moral plan ; and that every circumstance of this his 
moral government may be adjusted beforehand with a view 
to the whole of it. Thus for example : the determined length 
of time, and the degrees and ways, in which virtue is to re- 
main in a state of warfare and discipline, and in which wick- 
edness is permitted to have its progress ; the times appointed 
for the execution of justice ; the appointed instruments of it; 
the kinds of rewards and punishments, and the manners of 
their distribution; all particular instances of divine justice 
and goodness, and every circumstance of them, may have 
such respects to each other, as to make up altogether a whole, 
connected and related in all its parts; a scheme or system, 
which is as properly one as the natural world is, and of the 
like kind. And supposing this to be the case; it is most evi- 
dent, that we are not competent judges of this scheme, from 
the small parts of it which come within our view in the pre- 
sent life: and therefore no objections against any of these 
parts can be insisted upon by reasonable men. 

This our ignorance, and the consequence here drawn from 
it, are universally acknowledged upon other occasions ; and 
though scarce denied, yet are universally forgot, when per- 
sons come to argue against Religion. And it is not perhaps 
easy, even for the most reasonable men, always to bear in 
mind the degree of our ignorance, and make due allowances 
for it. Upon these accounts, it may not be useless to go on a 
little farther, in order to shew more distinctly, how just an 
answer our ignorance is, to objections against the scheme of 



144 The Government of God, part i. 

Providence. Suppose then a person boldly to assert, that the 
things complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might 
easily have been prevented by repeated interpositions ;* in- 
terpositions so guarded and circumstanced, as would preclude 
all mischief arising from them ; or, if this were impractica- 
ble, that a scheme of government is itself an imperfection ; 
since more good might have been produced, without any 
scheme, system, or constitution at all, by continued single 
unrelated acts of distributive justice and goodness ; because 
these would have occasioned no irregularities. And farther 
than this, it is presumed, the objections will not be carried. 
Yet the answer is obvious: that were these assertions true, 
still the observations above, concerning our ignorance in the 
scheme of divine government, and the consequence drawn 
from it, would hold, in great measure; enough to vindicate 
Religion, against all objections from the disorders of the pre- 
sent state. Were these assertions true, yet the government 
of the world might be just and good notwithstanding ; for, 
at the most, they would infer nothing more than that it might 
have been better. But indeed they are mere arbitrary asser- 
tions; no man being sufficiently acquainted with the possi- 
bilities of things, to bring any proof of them to the lowest 
degree of probability. For however possible what is asserted 
may seem ; yet many instances may be alleged, in things much 
less out of our reach, of suppositions absolutely impossible, 
and reducible to the most palpable self-contradictions, which, 
not every one by any means would perceive to be such, nor 
perhaps any one at first sight suspect. From these things, 
it is easy to see distinctly, how our ignorance, as it is the 
common, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections 
against the justice and goodness of Providence. If a man, 
contemplating any one providential dispensation, which had 
no relation to any others, should object, that he discerned in 
it a disregard to justice, or a deficiency of goodness ; nothing 
would be less an answer to such objection, than our ignorance 
in other parts of providence, or in the Possibilities of things, 
no way related to what he was contemplating. But when we 
know not but the parts objected against may be relative to 
other parts unknown to us ; and when we are unacquainted 
with what is, in the nature of the thing, practicable in the 
case before us ; then our ignorance is a satisfactory answer ; 
because, some unknown relation, or some unknown impossi- 

* P. 146, 147. 



chap, vi u a Scheme incomprehensible. 



145 



bility, may render what is objected against, just and good ; 
nay good in the highest practicable degree. 

II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such objec- 
tions, will farther appear, by a more distinct observation of 
some particular things contained in the natural government 
of God, the like to which may be supposed, from analogy, 
to be contained in his moral government. 

First, As in the scheme of the natural world, no ends 
appear to be accomplished without means ; so we find that 
means very undesirable, often conduce to bring about ends 
in such a measure desirable, as greatly to overbalance the 
disacrreeableness of the means. And in cases where such 
means are conducive to such ends, it is not reason, but expe- 
rience, which shews us, that they are thus conducive. Ex- 
perience also shews many means to be conducive and neces- 
sary to accomplish ends, which means, before experience, 
we should have thought, would have had even a contrary 
tendency. Now from these observations relating to the 
natural scheme of the world, the moral being supposed ana- 
logous to it, arises a great credibility, that the putting our 
misery in each others power to the degree it is, and making 
men liable to vice to the degree we are ; and in general, that 
those things which are objected against the moral scheme of 
Providence, may be, upon the whole, friendly and assistant to 
virtue, and productive of an overbalance of happiness : i. e. 
the things objected against may be means, by which an 
overbalance of good will, in the end, be found produced. 
And from the same observations, it appears to be no pre- 
sumption against this, that we do not, if indeed we do not, 
see those means to have any such tendency; or that they 
seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus those things, which 
we eall irregularities, may not be so at all : because they 
may be means of accomplishing wise and good ends more 
considerable. And it may be added, as above, that they 
may also be the only means, by which these wise and good 
ends are capable of being accomplished. 

After these observations it may be proper to add, in order 
to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from any of them, 
that though the constitution of our nature, from whence we 
are capable of vice and misery, may, as it undoubtedly does, 
contribute to the perfection and happiness of the world ; and 
though the actual permission of evilmay be beneficial to it : 
(i. e. it would have been more mischievous, not that a wicked 

K 



146 



The Government of God, 



part r, 



person had himself abstained from his own wickedness, but that 
any one had forcibly prevented it, than that it was permitted :) 
yet notwithstanding, it might have been much better for the 
world, if this very evil had never been done. Nay it is most 
clearly conceivable, that the very commission of wickedness 
may be beneficial to the world, and yet, that it would be 
infinitely more beneficial for men to refrain from it. For thus, 
in the wise and good constitution of the natural world, there 
are disorders which bring their own cures ; diseases, which 
are themselves remedies. Many a man would have died, had 
it not been for the gout or a fever ; yet it would be thought 
madness to assert, that sickness is a better or more perfect 
state than health ; though the like, with regard to the moral 
world, has been asserted. But, 

Secondly, The natural government of the world is carried 
on by general laws. For this there may be wise and good 
reasons : the wisest and best, for ought we know to the con- 
trary. And that there are such reasons, is suggested to our 
thoughts by the analogy of nature : by our being made to 
experience good ends to be accomplished, as indeed all the 
good which we enjoy is accomplished, by this means, that 
the laws, by which the world is governed, are general. \ For 
we have scarce any kind of enjoyments, but what we are, in 
some way or other, instrumental in procuring ourselves, by 
acting in a manner which we foresee likely to procure them : 
now this foresight could not be at all, were not the govern- 
ment of the world carried on by general laws. And though, 
for ought we know to the contrary, every single case may be, 
at length, found to have been provided for even by these : 
yet to prevent all irregularities, or remedy them as they arise, 
by the wisest and best general laws, may be impossible in 
the nature of things ; as we see it is absolutely impossible 
in civil government. But then we are ready to think, that, 
the constitution of nature remaining as it is, and the course of 
things being permitted to go on, in other respects, as it does, 
there might be interpositions to prevent irregularities ; though 
they could not have been prevented, or remedied by any ge- 
neral laws. And there would indeed be reason to wish, 
which, by the way, is very different from a right to claim, 
that all irregularities were prevented or remedied by present 
interpositions, if these interpositions would have no other 
effect than this. But it is plain they would have some visible 
and immediate bad effects: for instance, they would encou- 



chap. vii. a Scheme incomprehensible. 147 



rage idleness and negligence ; and they would render doubt- 
ful the natural rule of life, which is ascertained by this very 
thing, that the course of the world is carried on by general 
laws, And farther, it is certain they would have distant 
effects, and very great ones too ; by means of the wonderful 
connexions before mentioned.* So that we cannot so much 
as guess, what would be the whole result of the interposi- 
tions desired. It may be said, any bad result might be pre- 
vented by farther interpositions, whenever there was occa- 
sion for them : but this again is talking quite at random, and 
in the dark.f Upon the whole then, we see wise reasons, 
why the course of the world should be carried on by general 
laws, and good ends accomplished by this means : and, for 
ought we know, there may be the wisest reasons for it, and 
the best ends accomplished by it. We have no ground to 
believe, that all irregularities could be remedied as they arise, 
or could have been precluded, by general laws. We find that 
interpositions would produce evil, and prevent good : and, 
for ought we know, they would produce greater evil than 
they would prevent ; and prevent greater good than they 
would produce. And if this be the case, then the not inter- 
posing is so far from being a ground of complaint, that it is 
an instance of goodness. This is intelligible and sufficient: 
and going farther, seems beyond the utmost reach of our 
faculties. 

But it may be said, that " after all, these supposed im- 
possibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted 
with; and we must judge of Religion, as of other things, by 
what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing : or 
however, that the answers here given to what is objected 
against Religion, may equally be made use of to invalidate 
the proof of it ; since their stress lies so very much upon our 
ignorance." But, 

First, Though total ignorance in any matter does indeed 
equally destroy, or rather preclude, all proof concerning it, 
and objections against it; yet partial ignorance does not. 
For we may in any degree be convinced, that a person is of 
such a character, and consequently will pursue such ends ; 
though we are greatly ignorant, what is the proper way of 
acting, in order the most effectually to obtain those ends : 
and in this case, objections against his manner of acting, as 
seemingly not conducive to obtain them, might be answered 
* P. 142, &c. t P 144. . 

K 2 



148 The Government of God, part i. 

by our ignorance ; though the proof that such ends were in- 
tended, might not at all be invalidated by it. Thus, the proof 
of Religion is a proof of the moral character of God, and 
consequently that his government is moral, and that every 
one upon the whole shall receive according to his deserts; a 
proof that this is the designed end of his government. But 
we are not competent judges, what is the proper way of act- 
ing, in order the most effectually to accomplish this end.* 
Therefore our ignorance is an answer to objections against 
the conduct of Providence, in permitting irregularities, as 
seeming contradictory to this end. Now, since it is so ob- 
vious, that our ignorance may be a satisfactory answer to 
objections against a thing, and yet npt-affect the proof of it ; 
till it can be shewn, it is frivolous to assert, that our igno- 
rance invalidates the proof of Religion, as it does the objec- 
tions against it. 

Secondly, Suppose unknown impossibilities, and unknown 
relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the proof of 
Religion, as well as to answer objections against it : and that, 
in consequence of this, the proof of it were doubtful. Yet 
still, let the assertion be despised, or let it be ridiculed, it is 
undeniably true, that moral obligations would remain certain, 
though it were not certain what would, upon the whole, be 
the consequences of observing or violating them. For, these 
obligations arise immediately and necessarily from the judg- 
ment of our own mind, unless perverted, which we cannot 
violate without being self-condemned. And they would be 
certain too, from considerations of interest. For though it 
were doubtful, what will be the future consequences of virtue 
and vice ; yet it is, however, credible, that they may have 
those consequences, which Religion teaches us they will : 
and this credibility is a certain^ obligation in point of pru- 
dence, to abstain from all wickedness, and to live in the con- 
scientious practice of all that is good. But, 

Thirdly, The answers above given to the objections against 
Religion cannot equally be made use of to invalidate the 
proof of it. For, upon suspicion that God exercises a moral 
government over the world, analogy does most strongly lead 
us to conclude, that this moral government must be a scheme, 
or constitution, beyond our comprehension. And a thousand 
particular analogies shew us, that parts of such a scheme, 
from their relation to other parts, may conduce to accomplish 
* P. 56. t P. 52, and Part II. Chap. vi. 



chap, vit. a Scheme incomprehensible. 



149 



ends, which we should have thought they had no tendency 
at all to accomplish : nay ends, which before experience, we 
should have thought such parts were contradictory to, and 
had a tendency to prevent. And therefore all these analogies 
shew, that the way of arguing made use of in objecting 
against Religion is delusive : because they shew it is not 
at all incredible, that, could we comprehend the whole, we 
should find the permission of the disorders objected against 
to be consistent with justice and goodness ; and even to be 
instances of them.. Now this is not applicable to the proof 
of Religion, as it is to the objections against it;* and there- 
fore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does these objections. 

Lastly, From the observation now made, it is easy to see, 
that the answers above given to the objections against Pro- 
vidence, though, in a general way of speaking, they may be 
said to be taken from our ignorance ; yet are by no means 
taken merely from that, but from somewhat which analogy 
shews us concerning it. For analogy shews us positively, 
that our ignorance in the possibilities of things, and the va- 
rious relations in nature, renders us incompetent judges, and 
leads us to false conclusions, in cases similar to this, in which 
we pretend to judge and to object. So that the things above 
insisted upon are not mere suppositions of unknown impos- 
sibilities and relations : but they are suggested to our 
thoughts, and even forced upon the observation of serious 
men, and rendered credible too, by the analogy of nature. 
And therefore to take these things into the account, is to 
judge by experience and what we do know: and it is not 
judging so, to take no notice of them. 

CONCLUSION. 

The observations of the last Chapter lead us to consider this 
little scene of human life, in which we are so busily engaged, 
as having a reference, of some sort or other, to a much larger 
plan of things. Whether we are, any way, related to the 
more distant parts of the boundless universe, into which we 
are brought, is altogether uncertain. But it is evident, that 
the course of things, which comes within our view, is con- 
nected with somewhat, past, present, and future, beyond it.f 
So that we are placed, as one may speak, in the middle of a 

* Serm. at the Rolls, p. 312, 2d ed. + P. 142, &c. 



150 



Conclusion, 



PART I. 



scheme, not a fixt but a progressive one, every way incom- 
prehensible : incomprehensible, in a manner equally, with 
respect to what has been, what now is, and what shall be 
hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it some- 
what as wonderful, and as much beyond our thought and 
conception,^ as any thing in that of Religion. For, will any 
man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to conceive, how 
the world came to be and to continue as it is, without, than 
with, an intelligent Author and Governor of it ? or, admit- 
ting an intelligent Governor of it, that there is some other 
rule of government more natural, and of easier conception, 
than that which we call moral ? Indeed, without an intelli- 
gent Author and Governor of Nature, no account at all can 
be given, how this universe, or the part of it particularly in 
which we are concerned, came to be, and the course of it to 
be carried on, as it is : nor any, of its general end and de- 
sign, without a moral Governor of it. That there is an intel- 
ligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of the world, 
is a principle gone upon in the foregoing treatise ; as proved, 
and generally known and confessed to be proved. And the 
very notion of an intelligent Author of Nature, proved by 
particular final causes, implies a will and a character. f Now, 
as our whole nature, the nature which he has given us, leads 
us to conclude his will and character to be moral, just, and 
good : so we can scarce in imagination conceive, what it can 
be otherwise. However, in consequence of this his will and 
character, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it is, and 
carries on the course of it as he does, rather than in any other 
manner ; and has assigned to us, and to all living creatures, 
a part and a lot in it. Irrational creatures act this their part, 
and enjoy and undergo the pleasures and the pains allotted 
them, without any reflection. But one would think it im- 
possible, that creatures endued with reason could avoid 
reflecting sometimes upon all this; reflecting, if not from 
whence we came, yet, at least, whither we are going ; and 
what the mysterious scheme, in the midst of which we find 
ourselves, will, at length, come out and produce : a scheme 
in which it is certain we are highly interested, and in which 
we may be interested even beyond conception. For many 
things prove it palpably absurd to conclude, that we shall 
cease to be, at death. Particular analogies do most sensi- 
bly shew us, that there is nothing to be thought strange, in 
* See Part II. Ch. ii. t P. 130, 



CHAP. VII. 



Conclusion. 



151 



our being to exist in another state of life. And that we are 
now living beings, affords a strong probability that we shall 
continue so ; unless there be some positive ground, and there 
is none from reason or analogy, to think death will destroy 
us. Were a persuasion of this kind ever so well grounded, 
there would, surely, be little reason to take pleasure in it. 
But indeed it can have no other ground, than some such ima- 
gination, as that of our gross bodies being ourselves ; which 
is contrary to experience. Experience too most clearly shews 
us the folly of concluding, from the body and the living agent 
affecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the 
former is the destruction of the latter. And there are re- 
markable instances of their not affecting each other, which 
lead us to a contrary conclusion. The supposition then, 
which in all reason we are to go upon, is, that our living na- 
ture will continue after death. And it is infinitely unreason- 
able to form an institution of life, or to act upon any other 
supposition. Now all expectation of immortality, whether 
more or less certain, opens an unbounded prospect to our 
hopes and our fears : since we see the constitution of nature 
is such, as to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of 
happiness, and experience ourselves to partake of both in 
some degree ; and since we cannot but know, what higher 
degrees of both we are capable of. And there is no pre- 
sumption against believing farther, that our future interest 
depends upon our present behaviour : for we see our present 
interest doth ; and that the happiness and misery, which are 
naturally annexed to our actions, very frequently do not fol- 
low, till long after the actions are done, to which they are 
respectively annexed. So that were speculation to leave us 
uncertain, whether it were likely, that the Author of Nature, 
in giving happiness and misery to his creatures, hath regard 
to their actions or not : yet, since we find by experience that 
he hath such regard, the whole sense of things which he has 
given us, plainly leads us, at once and without any elaborate 
inquiries, to think, that it may, indeed must, be to good ac- 
tions chiefly that he hath annexed happiness, and to bad 
actions misery ; or that he will, upon" the whole, reward those 
who do well, and punish those who do evil. To confirm this 
from the constitution of the world, it has been observed, that 
some sort of moral government is necessarily implied in that 
natural government of God, which we experience ourselves 
under : that good and bad actions, at present, are naturally 



152 



Conclusion. 



part r. 



rewarded and punished, not only as beneficial and mischie- 
vous to society, but also as virtuous and vicious : and that 
there is, in the very nature of the thing, a tendency to their 
being rewarded and punished in a much higher degree than 
they are at present. And though this higher degree of 
distributive justice, which nature thus points out and leads 
towards, is prevented for a time from taking place ; it is by 
obstacles, which the state of this world unhappily throws in 
its way, and which therefore are in their nature temporary. 
Now, as these things in the natural conduct of Providence 
are observable on the side of virtue ; so there is nothing to 
be set against them on the side of vice. A moral scheme of 
government then is visibly established, and, in some degree, 
carried into execution : and this, together with the essential 
tendencies of virtue and vice duly considered, naturally raise 
in us an apprehension, that it will be carried on farther to- 
wards perfection in a future state, and that every one shall 
there receive according to his deserts. And if this be so, 
then our future and general interest, under the moral govern- 
ment of God, is appointed to depend upon our behaviour ; 
notwithstanding the difficulty, which this may occasion, of 
securing it, and the danger of losing it : just in the same 
manner as our temporal interest, under his natural govern- 
ment, is appointed to depend upon our behaviour; notwith- 
standing the like difficulty and danger. For, from our ori- 
ginal constitution, and that of the world which we inhabit, 
we are naturally trusted with ourselves ; with our own con 
duet and our own interest. And from the same constitution 
of nature, especially joined with that course of things which 
is owing to men, we have temptations to be unfaithful in this 
trust; to forfeit this interest, to neglect it, and run ourselves 
into misery and ruin. From these temptations arise the dif- 
ficulties of behaving so as to secure our temporal interest, and 
the hazard of behaving so as to miscarry in it. There is 
therefore nothing incredible in supposing there may be the 
like difficulty and hazard with regard to that chief and final 
good, which Religion lays before us. Indeed the whole ac- 
count, how it came to pass that we were placed in such a 
condition as this, must be beyond our comprehension. But 
it is in part accounted for by what Religion teaches us, that 
the character of virtue and piety must be a necessary quali- 
fication for a future state of security and happiness, under the 
moral government of God ; in like manner, as some certain 



CHAP. VII. 



Conclusion. 



153 



qualifications or other are necessary for every particular con- 
dition of life, under his natural government : and that the pre- 
sent state was intended to be a school of discipline, for im- 
proving in ourselves that character. Now this intention of 
nature is rendered highly credible by observing ; that we are 
plainly made for improvement of all kinds : that it is a general 
appointment of Providence, that we cultivate practical prin- 
ciples, and form within ourselves habits of action, in order 
to become fit for what we were wholly unfit for before : that 
in particular, childhood and youth is naturally appointed to 
be a state of discipline for mature age : and that the present 
world is peculiarly fitted for a state of moral discipline. 
And, whereas objections are urged against the whole notion 
of moral government and a probationary state, from the opi- 
nion of Necessity ; it has been shewn, that God has given us 
the evidence, as it were, of experience, that all objections 
against Religion, on this head, are vain and delusive. He 
has also, in his natural government, suggested an answer to 
all our shortsighted objections, against the equity and good- 
ness of his moral government ; and in general he has exem- 
plified to us the latter by the former. 

These things, which it is to be remembered, are matters 
of fact, ought in all common sense, to awaken mankind ; to 
induce them to consider in earnest their condition, and what 
they have to do. It is absurd, absurd to the degree of being 
ridiculous, if the subject were not of so serious a kind, for 
men to think themselves secure in a vicious life ; or even in 
that immoral thoughtlessness, which far the greatest part of 
them are fallen into. And the credibility of Religion, arising 
from experience and facts here considered, is fully sufficient, 
in reason, to engage them to live in the general practice of 
all virtue and piety ; under the serious apprehension, though 
it should be mixed with some doubt,* of a righteous admi- 
nistration established in nature, and a future judgment in con- 
sequence of it: especially when we consider, how very ques- 
tionable it is, whether any thing at all can be gained by vice ;f 
how unquestionably little as well as precarious, the pleasures 
and profits of it are at the best ; and how soon they must 
be parted with at the longest. For, in the deliberations of 
reason, concerning what we are to pursue and what to avoid, 
as temptations to any thing from mere passion are supposed 
out of the case : so inducements to vice, from cool expec- 
* Part II. Ch. vi. f P- 85. 



154 



Conclusion. 



PART I. 



tations of pleasure and interest so small and uncertain and 
short, are really so insignificant, as, in the view of reason to 
be almost nothing in themselves; and in comparison with the 
importance of Religion they quite disappear and are lost. 
Mere passion indeed may be alleged, though not as a reason, 
yet as an excuse, for a vicious course of life. And how sorry 
an excuse it is, will be manifest by observing, that we are 
placed in a condition in which we are unavoidably inured 
to govern our passions, by being necessitated to govern them : 
and to lay ourselves under the same kind of restraints, and 
as great ones too, from temporal regards, as virtue and piety, 
in the ordinary course of things, require. The plea of un- 
governable passion then, on the side of vice, is the poorest 
of all things ; for it is no reason, and but a poor excuse. But 
the proper motives to religion are the proper proofs of it, 
from our moral nature, from the presages of conscience, and 
our natural apprehension of God under the character of a 
righteous Governor and Judge : a nature and conscience and 
apprehension given us by him ; and from the confirmation 
of the dictates of reason, by life and immortality brought to 
light by the Gospel ; and the wrath of God revealed from 
heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. 



END OF THE FIRST PART. 



THE 

ANALOGY OF RELIGION. 



PART II. 
OF REVEALED RELIGION. 



CHAP. L 

Of the importance of Christianity. 

Some persons, upon pretence of the sufficiency of the light 
of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as, in its very notion, 
incredible, and what must be fictitious. And indeed it is 
certain, no revelation would have been given, had the light 
of nature been sufficient in such a sense, as to render one not 
wanting and useless. But no man, in seriousness and sim- 
plicity of mind, can possibly think it so, who considers the 
state of Religion in the heathen world before revelation, and 
its present state in those places which have borrowed no light 
from it : particularly the doubtfulness of some of the greatest 
men, concerning things of the utmost importance, as well as 
the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in general. 
It is impossible to say, who would have been able to have 
reasoned out that whole system, which we call natural Reli- 
gion, in its genuine simplicity, clear of superstition : but 
there is certainly no ground to affirm that the generality could. 
If they could, there is no sort of probability that they would. 
Admitting there were, they would highly want a standing 
admonition to remind them of it, and inculcate it upon them. 

And farther still, were they as much disposed to attend to 
Religion, as the better sort of men are ; yet even upon this 
supposition, there would be various occasions for superna- 
tural instruction and assistance, and the greatest advantages 
might be afforded by them. So that to say revelation is a 
thing superfluous, what there was no need of, and what can 
be of no service, is, I think, to talk quite wildly and at ran- 
dom. Nor would it be more extravagant to affirm, that 



156 



Of the Importance partii. 



mankind is so entirely at ease in the present state, and life 
so completely happy, that it is a contradiction to suppose 
our condition capable of being, in any respect, better. 

There are other persons, not to be ranked with these, who 
seem to be getting into a way of neglecting, and, as- it were, 
overlooking revelation, as of small importance, provided 
natural Religion be kept to. With little regard either to the 
evidence of the former, or to the objections against it, and 
even upon supposition of its truth ; " the only design of it," 
say they, " must be, to establish a belief of the moral system 
of nature, and to enforce the practice of natural piety and 
virtue. The belief and practice of these things were, perhaps, 
much promoted by the first publication of Christianity: but 
whether they are believed and practised, upon the evidence 
and motives of nature or of revelation, is no great matter."* 
This way of considering revelation, though it is not the same 
with the former, yet borders nearly upon it, and very much, 
at length, runs up into it : and requires to be particularly 
considered, with regard to the persons who seem to be getting 
into this way. The consideration of it will likewise farther 
shew the extravagance of the former opinion, and the truth 
of the observations in answer to it, just mentioned. And 
an inquiry into the Importance of Christianity, cannot be an 
improper introduction to a treatise concerning the credibility 
of it. 

Now if God has onven a revelation to mankind, and com- 
manded those things which are commanded in Christianity; 
it is evident, at first sight, that it cannot in any wise be an 
indifferent matter, whether we obey or disobey those com- 
mands : unless we are certainly assured, that we know all 
the reasons for them, and that all those reasons are now 
ceased, with regard to mankind in general, or to ourselves in 
particular. And it is absolutely impossible we can be assured 
of this. For our ignorance of these reasons proves nothing 
in the case : since the whole analogy of nature shews, what 
is indeed in itself evident, that there may be infinite reasons 
for things, with which we are not acquainted. 

* Invenis multos propterea nolle fieri Christianos, quia quasi suffi- 

ciunt sibi de bona vita sua. Bene vivere opus est, ait. Quid mihi prse- 
cepturus est Christus? Ut benevivam? Jam bene vivo. Quid mihi 
necessarius est> Christus? Nullum homieidium, nullum furtum, nullam 
rapinam facio, res alienas non concupisco, nullo adulterio contaminor. 
Nam inveniatur in vita mea aliquid quod reprehendatur, et qui reprehen- 
derit faciat Christian um. Aug. in Psal. xxxi. 



CHAP. I. 



of Christianity. 



157 



But the importance of Christianity will more distinctly 
appear, by considering' it more distinctly: First, as a repub- 
lication, and external institution, of natural or essential Re- 
ligion, adapted to the present circumstances of mankind, and 
intended to promote natural piety and virtue : and Secondly, 
as containing an account of a dispensation of things, not 
discoverable by reason, inconsequence of which, several dis- 
tinct precepts are enjoined us. For though natural Religion 
is the foundation and principal part of Christianity, it is not 
in any sense the whole of it. 

L Christianity is a republication of natural Religion. It 
instructs mankind in the moral system of the world : that it 
is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and under his 
government ; that virtue is his law ; and that he will finally 
judge mankind in righteousness, and render to all according 
to their works, in a future state. And, which is very material, 
it teaches natural Religion in its genuine simplicity ; free 
from those superstitions, with which it was totally corrupted, 
and under which it was in a manner lost. 

Revelation is farther, an authoritative publication of natural 
Religion, and so affords the evidence of testimony for the 
truth of it. Indeed the miracles and prophecies recorded in 
Scripture, were intended to prove a particular dispensation 
of Providence, the redemption of the world by the Messiah: 
but this does not hinder, but that they may also prove God's 
general providence over the world, as our moral Governor 
and Judge. And they evidently do prove it ; because this 
character of the Author of Nature, is necessarily connected 
with and implied in that particular revealed dispensation of 
things: it is likewise continually taught expressly, and insisted 
upon, by those persons who wrought the miracles and deli- 
vered the prophecies. So that indeed natural Religion seems 
as much proved by the Scripture revelation, as it would have 
been, had the design of revelation been nothing else than to 
prove it. 

But it may possibly be disputed, how far miracles can 
prove natural Religion ; and notable objections may be urged 
against this proof of it, considered as a matter of speculation: 
but considered as a practical thing, there can be none. For 
suppose a person to teach natural Religion to a nation, who 
had lived in total ignorance or forgetfulness of it ; and to 
declare he was commissioned by God so to do: suppose him, 
in proof of his commission, to foretel things future, which no 



158 



Of the Importance 



PART II 



human foresight could have guessed at ; to divide the sea 
with a word ; feed great multitudes with bread from heaven ; 
cure all manner of diseases; and raise the dead, even himself, 
to life : would not this give additional credibility to his 
teaching, a credibility beyond what that of a common man 
would have ; and be an authoritative publication of the law 
of nature, i. e. a new proof of it ? It would be a practical one, 
of the strongest kind, perhaps, which human creatures are 
capable of having given them. The Law of Moses then, 
and the Gospel of Christ, are authoritative publications of 
the religion of nature ; they afford a proof of God's general 
providence, as moral Governor of the world, as well as of 
his particular dispensations of providence towards sinful 
creatures, revealed in the Law and the Gospel. As they are 
the only evidence of the latter, so they are an additional 
evidence of the former. 

To shew this further, let us suppose a man of the greatest 
and most improved capacity, who had never heard of reve- 
lation, convinced upon the whole, notwithstanding the dis- 
orders of the world, that it was under the direction and moral 
government of an infinitely perfect Being ; but ready to 
question, whether he were not got beyond the reach of his 
faculties : suppose him brought, by this suspicion, into great 
danger of being carried away by the universal bad example 
of almost every one around him, who appeared to have no 
practical sense at least, of these things : and this, perhaps, 
would be as advantageous a situation with regard to Religion, 
as nature alone ever placed any man in. What a confirmation 
now must it be to such a person, all at once, to find, that this 
moral system of things was revealed to mankind, in the name 
of that infinite Being, whom he had from principles of reason 
believed in : and that the publishers of the revelation proved 
their commission from him, by making it appear, that he had 
entrusted them with a power of suspending and changing 
the general laws of nature. 

Nor must it by any means be omitted, for it is a thing of 
the utmost importance, that life and immortality are emi- 
nently brought to light by the Gospel. The great doctrines 
of a future state, the danger of a course of wickedness, and 
the efficacy of repentance, are not only confirmed in the 
Gospel, but are taught, especially the last is, with a degree 
of light, to which that of nature is but darkness. 

Farther : As Christianity served these ends and purposes, 



CHAP. I. 



of Christianity. 



159 



when it was first published, by the miraculous publication 
itself ; so it was intended to serve the same purposes in future 
ages, by means of the settlement of a visible church : of a 
society, distinguished from common ones, and from the rest 
of the world, by peculiar religious institutions ; by an insti- 
tuted method of instruction, and an instituted form of exter- 
nal Religion. Miraculous powers were given to the first 
preachers of Christianity, in order to their introducing it into 
the w r orld : a visible church was established, in order to con- 
tinue it, and carry it on successively throughout all ages. 
Had Moses and the Prophets, Christ and his Apostles, only 
taught, and by miracles proved, Religion to their contem- 
poraries ; the benefits of their instructions would have reached 
but to a small part of mankind. Christianity must have been, 
in a great degree, sunk and forgot in a very few ages. To 
prevent this, appears to have been one reason why a visible 
church was instituted : to be, like a city upon a hill, a stand- 
ing memorial to the world of the duty which we owe our 
Maker : to call men continually, both by example and in- 
struction, to attend to it, and, by the form of Religion, ever 
before their eyes, remind them of the reality: to be the 
repository of the oracles of God : to hold up the light of 
revelation in aid to that of nature, and propagate it through- 
out all generations to the end of the world — the light of reve- 
lation, considered here in no other view, than as designed to 
enforce natural Religion. And in proportion as Christianity 
is professed and taught in the world, Religion, natural or 
essential Religion, is thus distinctly and advantageously 
laid before mankind, and brought again and again to their 
thoughts, as a matter of infinite importance. A visible 
church has also a farther tendency to promote natural Reli- 
gion, as being an instituted method of education, originally 
intended to be of more peculiar advantage to those who 
would conform to it. For one end of the institution was, 
that by admonition and reproof, as well as instruction ; by a 
general regular discipline, and public exercises of Religion ; 
the body of Christ, as the Scripture speaks, should be edijied; 
i. e. trained up in piety and virtue for a higher and better 
state. This settlement then appearing thus beneficial ; tend- 
ing in the nature of the thing to answer, and in some degree 
actually answering, those ends ; it is to be remembered, that 
the very notion of it implies positive institutions ; for the 
visibility of the church consists in them. Take away every 



160 



Of the Importance 



PART II. 



thing of this kind, and you lose the very notion itself. So 
that if the things now mentioned are advantages, the reason 
and importance of positive institutions in general is most 
obvious ; since without them these advantages could not be 
secured to the world. And it is mere idle wantonness, to 
insist upon knowing the reasons, why such particular ones 
were fixed upon rather than others. 

The benefit arising from this supernatural assistance, 
which Christianity affords to natural Religion, is what some 
persons are very slow in apprehending. And yet it is a thing 
distinct in itself, and a very plain obvious one. For will 
any in good earnest really say, that the bulk of mankind in 
the heathen world were in as advantageous a situation with 
regard to natural Religion, as they are now amongst us : 
that it was laid before them, and enforced upon them, in a 
manner as distinct, and as much tending to influence their 
practice ? 

The objections against all this, from the perversion of 
Christianity, and from the supposition of its having had but 
little good influence, however innocently they may be pro- 
posed, yet cannot be insisted upon as conclusive, upon any 
principles, but such as lead to downright Atheism : because 
the manifestation of the law of nature by reason, which, upon 
all principles of Theism, must have been from God, has been 
perverted and rendered ineffectual in the same manner. Jt 
may indeed, I think, truly be said, that the good effects of 
Christianity have not been small; nor its supposed ill effects, 
any effects at all of it, properly speaking. Perhaps too the 
things themselves done have been aggravated ; and if not, 
Christianity hath been often only a pretence ; and the same 
evils in the main would have been done upon some other 
pretence. However, great and shocking as the corruptions 
and abuses of it have really been, they cannot be insisted 
upon as arguments against it, upon principles of Theism. 
For one cannot proceed one step in reasoning upon natural 
Religion, any more than upon Christianity, without laying 
it down as a first principle, that the dispensations of Provi- 
dence are not to be judged of by their perversions, but by 
their genuine tendencies : not by what they do actually seem 
to effect, but by what they would effect if mankind did their 
part; that part which is justly put and left upon them. It 
is altogether as much the language of one as of the other ; 
He that is unjust, let him be imjust still : and he that is holy, 



CHAP. I. 



of Christianity. 



161 



let him be holy Still* The light of reason does not, any 
more than that of revelation, force men to submit to its au- 
thority ; both admonish them of what they ought to do and 
avoid, together with the consequences of each; and after 
this, leave them at full liberty to act just as they please, till 
the appointed time of judgment. Every moment's expe- 
rience shews, that this is God's general rule of government. 

To return then : Christianity being a promulgation of the 
law of nature ; being moreover an authoritative promulga- 
tion of it ; with new light, and other circumstances of pecu- 
liar advantage, adapted to the wants of mankind ; these 
things fully shew its importance. And it is to be observed 
farther, that as the nature of the case requires, so all Chris- 
tians are commanded to contribute, by their profession of 
Christianity, to preserve it in the world, and render it such 
a promulgation and enforcement of Religion. For it is the 
very scheme of the Gospel, that each Christian should, in 
his degree, contribute towards continuing and carrying it on : 
all by uniting in the public profession and external practice 
of Christianity ; some by instructing, by having the over- 
sight and taking care of this religious community, the Church 
of God. Now this farther shews the importance of Chris- 
tianity ; and, which is what I chiefly intend, its importance 
in a practical sense : or the high obligations we are under, 
to take it into our most serious consideration ; and the danger 
there must necessarily be, not only in treating it despitefully, 
which I am not now speaking of, but in disregarding and 
neglecting it. For this is neglecting to do what is expressly 
enjoined us, for continuing those benefits to the world, and 
transmitting them down to future times. And all this holds, 
even though the only thing to be considered in Christianity, 
were its subserviency to natural Religion. But, 

II. Christianity is to be considered in a further view ; as 
containing an account of a dispensation of things, not at all 
discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several dis- 
tinct precepts are enjoined us. Christianity is not only an 
external institution of natural Religion, and a new promul- 
gation of God's general providence, as righteous Governor 
and Judge of the world ; but it contains also a revelation of 
a particular dispensation of Providence, carrying on by his 
Son and Spirit, for the recovery and salvation of mankind, 
who are represented in Scripture to be in a state of ruin. 

* Rev. xxii. 11. 
L 



162 



Of the Importance 



PART II. 



And in consequence of this revelation being made, we are 
commanded to be baptized, not only in the name of the Father, 
but also, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost : and other obli- 
gations of duty, unknown before, to the Son and the Holy 
Ghost, are revealed. Now the importance of these duties 
may be judged of, by observing that they arise, not from 
positive command merely, but also from the offices, which 
appear, from Scripture, to belong to those divine persons in 
the Gospel dispensation ; or from the relations, which, we are 
there informed, they stand in to us. By reason is revealed 
the relation, which God the Father stands in to us. Hence 
arises the obligation of duty which we are under to him. 
In Scripture are revealed the relations, which the Son and 
Holy Spirit stand in to us. Hence arise the obligations of 
duty, which we are under to them. The truth of the case, 
as one may speak, in each of these three respects being ad- 
mitted : that God is the. governor of the world, upon the 
evidence of reason ; that Christ is the mediator between God 
and man, and the Holy Ghost our guide and sanctifier, upon 
the evidence of revelation : the truth of the case, I say, in 
each of these respects being admitted ; it is no more a ques- 
tion, why it should be commanded, that we be baptized in 
the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, than that we be 
baptized in the name of the Father. This matter seems to 
require to be more fully stated.* 

Let it be remembered then, that Religion comes under the 
twofold consideration of internal and external : for the latter 
is as real a part of Religion, of true Religion, as the former. 
Now when Religion is considered under the first notion, as 
an inward principle, to be exerted in such and such inward 
acts of the mind and heart ; the essence of natural Religion 
may be said to consist in religious regards to God the Father 
Almighty : and the essence of revealed Religion, as distin- 
guished from natural, to consist in religious regards to the 
Son, and to the Holy Ghost. And the obligation we are 
under, of paying these religious regards to each of these 
divine persons respectively, arises from the respective rela- 
tions which they each stand in to us. How these relations 
are made known, whether by reason or revelation, makes no 
alteration in the case : because the duties arise out of the 
relations themselves, not out of the manner in which we are 

* See The Nature, Obligation, and Efficacy of the Christian Sacra- 
ments. &c. and Colliber of revealed Religion, as there quoted. 



CHAP. J. 



of Christianity. 



163 



informed of them. The Son and Spirit have each his proper 
office in that great dispensation of Providence, the redemp- 
tion of the world ; the one our mediator, the other our sanc- 
tifler. Does not then the duty of religious regards to both 
these divine persons, as immediately arise, to the view of 
reason, out of the very nature of these offices and relations ; 
as the inward good-will and kind intention, which we owe 
to our fellow-creatures, arises out of the common relations 
between us and them? But it will be asked, " What are the 
inward religious regards, appearing thus obviously due to 
the Son and Holy Spirit; as arising, not merely from com- 
mand in Scripture, but from the very nature of the revealed 
relations, which they stand in to us ?" I answer, the religi- 
ous regards of reverence, honour, love, trust, gratitude, fear, 
hope. In what external manner this inward worship is to 
be expressed, is a matter of pure revealed command; as 
perhaps the external manner, in which God the Father is to 
be worshipped, may be more so, than we are ready to think : 
but the worship, the internal worship itself, to the Son and 
Holy Ghost, is no farther matter of pure revealed command, 
than as the relations they stand in to us are matter of pure 
revelation : for the relations being known, the obligations to 
such internal worship are obligations of reason, arising out 
of those relations themselves. In short, the history of the 
Gospel as immediately shews us the reason of these obliga- 
tions, as it shews us the meaning of the words, Son and Holy 
Ghost. 

If this account of the Christian Religion be just; those 
persons who can speak lightly of it, as of little consequence, 
provided natural Religion be kept to, plainly forget, that 
Christianity, even what is peculiarly so called, as distin- 
guished from natural Religion, has yet somewhat very impor- 
tant, even of a moral nature. For the office of our Lord 
being made known, and the relation he stands in to us, the 
obligation of religious regards , to him is plainly moral, as 
much as charity to mankind is; since this obligation arises, 
before external command, immediately out of that his office 
and relation itself. Those persons appear to forget, that re- 
velation is to be considered, as informing us of somewhat 
new, in the state of mankind, and in the government of the 
world : as acquainting us with some relations we stand in, 
which could not otherwise have been known. And these 
relations being real (though before revelation we could be 

l 2 



164 



Of the Import mice part ii 



under no obligations from them, yet upon their being re- 
vealed), there is no reason to think, but that neglect of 
behaving suitably to them will be attended with the same 
kind of consequences under God's government, as neglecting 
to behave suitably to any other relations made known to us 
by reason. And ignorance, whether unavoidable or volun- 
tary, so far as we can possibly see, will just as much, and 
just as little, excuse in one case as in the other : the ignorance 
being supposed equally unavoidable, or equally voluntary, 
in both cases. 

If therefore Christ be indeed the mediator between God 
and man, i. e. if Christianity be true ; if he be indeed our 
Lord, our Saviour, and our God; no one can say, what may 
follow, not only the obstinate, but the careless disregard to 
him, in those high relations. Nay no one can say, what 
may follow such disregard, even in the way of natural conse- 
quence.* For, as the natural consequences of vice in this 
life are doubtless to be considered as judicial punishments 
inflicted by God ; so likewise, for ought we know, the judi- 
cial punishments of the future life may be, in a like way or 
a like sense, the natural consequence of vice :f of men's vio- 
lating or disregarding the relations which God has placed 
them in here, and made known to them. 

Again: If mankind are corrupted and depraved in their 
moral character, and so are unfit for that state, which Christ 
is gone to prepare for his disciples; and if the assistance of 
God's Spirit be necessary to renew their nature, in the degree 
requisite to their being qualified for that state ; all which is 
implied in the express, though figurative declaration, Except 
a man be bom of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom 
of God:% supposing this, is it possible any serious person can 
think it a slight matter, whether or no he makes use of the 
means, expressly commanded by God, for obtaining this 
divine assistance? especially since the whole analogy of 
nature shews, that w r e are not to expect any benefits, without 
making use of the appointed means for obtaining or enjoy ing 
them. Now reason shews us nothing, of the particular im- 
mediate means of obtaining either temporal or spiritual 
benefits. This therefore we must learn, either from experi- 
ence or revelation. And experience, the present case does 
not admit of. 

The conclusion from all this evidently is, that, Christianity 
* P. 72, 73. -f Ch. v. \ John iii. v. 



CHAP. I. 



of Christianity. 



165 



being supposed either true or credible, it is unspeakable irre- 
verence, and really the most presumptuous rashness, to treat 
• it as a light matter. It can never justly be esteemed of little 
3 consequence, till it be positively supposed false. Nor do I 
know a higher and more important obligation which we are 
under, than that of examining most seriously into the evidence 
of it, supposing its credibility; and of embracing it, upon 
- supposition of its truth. 

The two following deductions may be proper to be added, 
in order to illustrate the foregoing observations, and to pre- 
vent their being mistaken. 

First, Hence we may clearly see, where lies the distinction 
between what is positive and what is moral in Religion. 
Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we see : 
positive precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we do 
not see.* Moral duties arise out of the nature of the case 
itself, prior to external command. Positive duties do not 
arise out of the nature of the case, but from external com- 
mand ; nor would they be duties at all, were it not for such 
command, received from him whose creatures and subjects 
we are. But the manner in which the nature of the case, or 
the fact of the relation, is made known, this doth not denomi- 
nate any duty either positive or moral, ^nat we be bap- 
tized in the name of the Father, is as much a positive duty, 
as that we be baptized in the name of the Son ; because both 
arise equally* from revealed command ; though the relation 
which we stand in to God the Father is made known to us by 
reason ; the relation we stand in to Christ, by revelation 
only. On the other hand, the dispensation of the Gospel 
admitted, gratitude as immediately becomes due to Christ, 
from his being the voluntary minister of this dispensation, as 
it is due to God the Father, from his being the fountain of all 
good; though the first is made known to us by revelation 
only, the second by reason. Hence also we may see, and, 
for distinctness sake, it may be worth mentioning, that posi- 
tive institutions come under a twofold consideration. They 
are either institutions founded on natural Religion, as baptism 

* This is the distinction between moral and positive precepts considered 
respectively as such. But yet, since the latter have somewhat of amoral 
nature, we may see the reason of them, considered in this view. Moral 
and positive precepts are in some respects alike, in other respects different. 
So far as they are alike, we discern the reasons of both ; so far as they are 
different, we discern the reasons of the former, but not of the latter. See 
p. 158, &c. and p. 166. 



166 



Of the Importance 



PART II. 



in the name of the Father ; though this has also a particular 
reference to the Gospel dispensation, for it is in the name of 
God, as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ : or they are 
external institutions founded on revealed Religion; as bap- 
tism in the name of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. 

Secondly \ From the distinction between what is moral and 
what is positive in Religion, appears the ground of that pe- 
culiar preference, which the Scripture teaches us to be due 
to the former. 

The reason of positive institutions in general is very 
obvious; though we should not see the reason, why such 
particular ones are pitched upon rather than others. Who- 
ever therefore, instead of cavilling at words, will attend to 
the thing itself, may clearly see, that positive institutions in 
general, as distinguished from this or that particular one, 
have the nature of moral commands ; since the reasons of 
them appear. Thus, for instance, the external worship of 
God is a moral duty, though no particular mode of it be so. 
Care then is to be taken, when a comparison is made between 
positive and moral duties, that they be compared no farther 
than as they are different; no farther than as the former are 
positive, or arise out of mere external command, the reasons 
of which we are not acquainted with ; and as the latter are 
moral, or arise out of the apparent reason of the case, without 
such external command. Unless this caution be observed, 
we shall run into endless confusion. 

Now this being premised, suppose two standing precepts 
enjoined by the same authority ; that, in certain conjunctures, 
it is impossible to obey both ; that the former is moral, i. e. 
a precept of which we see the reasons, and that they hold in 
the particular case before us ; but that the latter is positive, 
i. e. a precept of which we do not see the reasons : it is indis- 
putable that our obligations are to obey the former ; because 
there is an apparent reason for this preference, and none 
against it. Farther, positive institutions, I suppose all those 
which Christianity enjoins, are means to a moral end : and 
the end must be acknowledged more excellent than the means. 
Nor is observance of these institutions any religious obedience 
at all, or of any value, otherwise than as it proceeds from a 
moral principle. This seems to be the strict logical way of 
stating and determining this matter ; but will, perhaps, be 
found less applicable to practice, than may be thought at first 
sight. 



CHAP. I. 



of Christianity. 



167 



And therefore, in a more practical, though more lax way 
of consideration, and taking the words, moral law and positive 
institutions r, in the popular sense ; I add, that the whole moral 
law is as much matter of revealed command, as positive insti- 
tutions are : for the Scripture enjoins every moral virtue. In 
this respect then they are both upon a level. But the moral 
law is, moreover, written upon our hearts ; interwoven into 
our very nature. And this is a plain intimation of the Author 
of it, which is to be preferred, when they interfere. 

But there is not altogether so much necessity for the deter- 
mination of this question, as some persons seem to think. 
Nor are we left to reason alone to determine it. For, First, 
Though mankind have, in all ages, been greatly prone to place 
their religion in peculiar positive rites, by way of equivalent 
for obedience to moral precepts ; yet, without making any 
comparison at all between them, and consequently without 
determining which is to have the preference, the nature of the 
thing abundantly shews all notions of that kind to be utterly 
subversive of true Religion : as they are, moreover, contrary 
to the whole general tenor of Scripture ; and likewise to the 
most express particular declarations of it, that nothing can 
render us accepted of God, without moral virtue. Secondly, 
Upon the occasion of mentioning together positive and moral 
duties, the Scripture always puts the stress of Religion upon 
the latter, and never upon the former : which, though no sort 
of allowance to neglect the former, when they do not interfere 
with the latter, yet is a plain intimation, that when they do, 
the latter are to be preferred. And farther, as mankind are 
for placing the stress of their religion any where, rather than 
upon virtue ; lest both the reason of the thing, and the general 
spirit of Christianity, appearing in the intimation now men- 
tioned, should be ineffectual against this prevalent folly :Cour 
Lord himself, from whose command alone the obligation of 
positive institutions arises, has taken occasion to make the 
comparison between them and moral precepts y when the 
Pharisees censured him, for eating with publicans and sinners; 
and also when they censured his disciples, for plucking the 
ears of corn on the Sabbath-day . Upon this comparison, he 
has determined expressly, and in form, which shall have the 
preference when they interfere. And by delivering his autho- 
ritative determination in a proverbial manner of expression, 
he has made it general : / will have mercy, and not sacrifice.* 
* Matth.ix. 13. and xii. 7. 



168 



Of the Importance 



PART II. 



The propriety of the word proverbial, is not the thing insisted 
upon : though I think the manner of speaking is to be called 
so. But that the manner of speaking very remarkably renders 
the determination general, is surely indisputable. For, had 
it, in the latter case, been said only, that God preferred mercy 
to the rigid observance of the Sabbath; even then, by parity 
of reason, most justly might we have argued, that he preferred 
mercy likewise, to the observance of other ritual institutions; 
and in general, moral duties, to positive ones. And thus the 
determination would have been general; though its being so 
were inferred and not expressed. But as the passage really 
stands in the Gospel, it is much stronger. For the sense and 
the very literal words of our Lord's answer are as applicable 
to any other instance of a comparison, between positive and 
moral duties, as to this upon which they were spoken. And 
if, in case of competition, mercy is to be preferred to positive 
institutions, it will scarce be thought, that justice is to give 
place to them. It is remarkable too, that, as the words are 
a quotation from the Old Testament, they are introduced, on 
both the forementioned occasions, with a declaration, that 
the Pharisees did not understand the meaning of them. 
This, I say, is very remarkable. For, since it is scarce pos- 
sible, for the most ignorant person, not to understand the 
literal sense of the passage, in the Prophet;* and since un- 
derstanding the literal sense would not have prevented their 
condemning the guiltless;^ it can hardly be doubted, that the 
thing which our Lord really intended in that declaration was, 
that the Pharisees had not learnt from it, as they might, 
wherein the general spirit of Religion consists : that it con- 
sists in moral piety and virtue, as distinguished from forms, 
and ritual observances. However, it is certain we may 
learn this from his divine application of the passage, in the 
Gospel. 

But, as it is one of the peculiar weaknesses of human nature, 
when, upon a comparison of two things, one is found to be of 
greater importance than the other, to consider this other as 
of scarce any importance at all : it is highly necessary that 
we remind ourselves, how great presumption it is, to make 
light of any institutions of divine appointment; that our 
obligations to obey all God's commands whatever are absolute 
and indispensable ; and that commands merely positive, ad- 
mitted to be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to 
* Hos. vi. t See Matth. xii. 7. 



CHAP. I. 



of Christianity . 



169 



obey them : an obligation moral in the strictest and most 
proper sense. 

To these things I cannot forbear adding, that the account 
now given of Christianity most strongly shews and enforces 
upon us the obligation of searching the Scriptures, in order 
to see, what the scheme of revelation really is ; instead of 
determining beforehand, from reason, what the scheme of it 
must be.* Indeed if in revelation there be found any passages, . 
the seeming meaning of which is contrary to natural Religion ; 
we may most certainly conclude, such seeming meaning not 
to be the real one. But it is not any degree of a presumption 
against an interpretation of Scripture, that such interpreta- 
tion contains a doctrine, which the light of nature cannot 
discover;! or a precept, which the law of nature does not 
oblige to. 

CHAP. II. 

Of the supposed Presumption against a Revelation, 
considered as miraculous. 

Having shewn the importance of the Christian revelation, 
and the obligations which we are under seriously to attend to 
it, upon supposition of its truth, or its credibility : the next 
thing in order, is to consider the supposed presumptions 
against revelation in general; which shall be the subject of 
this Chapter : and the objections against the Christian in 
particular; which shall be the subject of some following ones. J 
For it seems the most natural method, to remove the prejudices 
against Christianity, before we proceed to the consideration 
of the positive evidence for it, and the objections against that 
evidence.^ 

It is, I think, commonly supposed, that there is some pe- 
culiar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the 
Christian scheme of things ; at least against miracles ; so as 
that stronger evidence is necessary to prove the truth and 
reality of them, than would be sufficient to convince us of 
other events, or matters of fact. Indeed the consideration of 
this supposed presumption cannot but be thought very insig- 
nificant, by many persons. Yet, as it belongs to the subject 
of this Treatise ; so it may tend to open the mind, and re- 



* See Chap. iii. 
X Ch. iii, iv, v, vi. 



t P. 170, 171. 
| Ch. vii. 



170 Of the supposed Presumption part u. 

move some prejudices : however needless the consideration 
of it be, upon its own account. 

I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from the analogy 
of nature, against the general scheme of Christianity, that 
God created and invisibly governs the world by Jesus Christ; 
and by him also will hereafter judge it in righteousness^', e. 
render to every one according to his works ; and that good 
men are under the setret influence of his Spirit. Whether 
these things are, or are not, to be called miraculous, is, per- 
haps, only a question about words ; or however, is of no 
moment in the case. If the analogy of nature raises any 
presumption against this general scheme of Christianity, it 
must be, either because it is not discoverable by reason or ex- 
perience ; or else, because it is unlike that course of nature, 
which is. But analogy raises no presumption against the 
truth of this scheme, upon either of these accounts. 

First, There is no presumption, from analogy, against the 
truth of it, upon account of its not being discoverable by 
reason or experience. For suppose one who never heard of 
revelation, of the most improved understanding, and ac- 
quainted with our whole system of natural philosophy and 
natural religion : such a one could not but be sensible, that 
it was but a very small part of the natural and moral system 
of the universe, which he was acquainted with. He could 
not but be sensible, that there must be innumerable things, in 
the dispensations of Providence past, in the invisible govern- 
ment over the world at present carrying on, and in what is to 
come ; of which he was wholly ignorant,* and which could 
not be discovered without revelation. Whether the scheme 
of nature be, in the strictest sense, infinite or not ; it is evi- 
dently vast, even beyond all possible imagination. And doubt- 
less that part of it, which is opened to our view, is but as a 
point, in comparison of the whole plan of Providence, reach- 
ing throughout eternity past and future ; in comparison of 
what is even now going on in the remote parts of the bound- 
less universe; nay in comparison of the whole scheme of this 
world. And therefore, that things lie beyond the natural 
reach of our faculties, is no sort of presumption against the 
truth and reality of them : because it is certain, there are in- 
numerable things, in the constitution and government of the 
universe, which are thus beyond the natural reach of our 
faculties. Secondly, Analogy raises no presumption against 

* P. 142. 



C-H A P. II. 



against Miracles. 



171 



any of the things contained in this general doctrine of Scrip- 
ture now mentioned, upon account of their being unlike the 
known course of nature. For there is no presumption at all 
from analogy, that the whole course of things, or divine 
government, naturally unknown to us, and every thing in it, 
is like to any thing in that which is known; and therefore no 
peculiar presumption against any thing in the former, upon 
account of its being unlike to any thing in the latter. And 
in the constitution and natural government of the world, as 
well as in the moral government of it, we see things, in a great 
degree, unlike one another : and therefore ought not to won- 
der at such unlikeness between things visible and invisible. 
However, the scheme of Christianity is by no means entirely 
unlike the scheme of nature ; as will appear in the following 
part of this Treatise. 

The notion of a miracle, considered as a proof of a divine 
mission, has been stated with great exactness by divines; and 
is, I think, sufficiently understood by every one. There are 
also invisible miracles, the Incarnation of Christ, for instance, 
which, being secret, cannot be alleged as a proof of such a 
mission ; but require themselves to be proved by visible mi- 
racles. Revelation itself too is miraculous; and miracles are 
the proof of it ; and the supposed presumption against these 
shall presently be considered. All which I have been observ- 
ing here is, that, whether we choose to call every thing in 
the dispensations of Providence, not discoverable without 
revelation, nor like the known course of things, miraculous ; 
and whether the general Christian dispensation now men- 
tioned is to be called so, or not ; the foregoing observations 
seem certainly to shew, that there is no presumption against 
it from the analogy of nature. 

II. There is no presumption, from analogy, against some 
operations, which we should now call miraculous ; particu- 
larly none against a revelation at the beginning of the world : 
nothing of such presumption against it, as is supposed to be 
implied or expressed in the word, miraculous^ For a miracle, 
in its very notion, is relative to a course of nature ; and im- 
plies somewhat different from it, considered as being so. 
Now, either there was no course of nature at the time which 
we are speaking of ; or if there were, we are not acquainted 
what the course of nature is, upon the first peopling of worlds. 
And therefore the question, whether mankind had a revela- 
tion made to them at that time, is to be considered, not as a 



172 



Of the supposed Presumption 



PART II- 



question concerning a miracle, but as a common question of 
fact. And we have the like reason, be it more or less, to admit 
the report of tradition, concerning this question, and concern- 
ing common matters of fact of the same antiquity ; for in- 
stance, what part of the earth was first peopled. 

Or thus : When mankind was first placed in this state, 
there was a power exerted, totally different from the present 
course of nature. Now, whether this power, thus wholly 
different from the present course of nature, for we cannot pro- 
perly apply to it the word miraculous ; whether this power 
stopped immediately after it had made man, or went on, and 
exerted itself farther in giving him a revelation, is a question 
of the same kind, as whether an ordinary power exerted itself 
in such a particular degree and manner, or not. 

Or suppose the power exerted in the formation of the world 
be considered as miraculous, or rather, be called by that 
name: the case will not be different: since it must be ac- 
knowledged, that such a power was exerted. For supposing 
it acknowledged, that our Saviour spent some years in a 
course of working miracles : there is no more presumption, 
worth mentioning, against his having exerted this miraculous 
power, in a certain degree greater,, than in a certain degree 
less ; in one or two more instances, than in one or two fewer ; 
in this, than in another manner. 

It is evident then, that there can be no peculiar presump- 
tion, from the analogy of nature, against supposing a revela- 
tion, when man was first placed upon the earth. 

Add, that there does not appear the least intimation in his- 
tory or tradition, that Religion was first reasoned out : but 
the whole of history and tradition makes for the other side, 
that it came into the world by revelation. Indeed the state 
of Religion in the first ages, of which we have any account, 
seems to suppose and imply, that this was the original of it 
amongst mankind. And these reflections together, without 
taking in the peculiar authority of Scripture, amount to real 
and a very material degree of evidence, that there was a reve- 
lation at the beginning of the world. Now this, as it is a con- 
firmation of natural Religion, and therefore mentioned in the 
former part of this Treatise ; # so likewise it has a tendency 
to remove any prejudices against a subsequent revelation. 

III. But still it may be objected, that there is some pecu- 
liar presumption, from analogy, against miracles ; particu- 

* P. 137, &c. 



CHAP. II. 



against Miracles. 



173 



larly against revelation, after the settlement and during the 
continuance of a course of nature. 

Now with regard to this supposed presumption, it is to be 
observed in general, that before we can have ground for 
raising what can, with any propriety, be called an argument 
from analogy, for or against revelation considered as some- 
what miraculous, we must be acquainted with a similar or 
parallel case. But the history of some other world, seem- 
ingly in like circumstances with our own, is no more than a 
parallel case : and therefore nothing short of this can be so. 
Yet, could we come at a presumptive proof, for or against 
a revelation, from being informed, whether such world had 
one, or not ; such a proof, being drawn from one single in- 
stance only, must be infinitely precarious. More particu- 
larly : First of all ; There is a very strong presumption 
against common speculative truths, and against the most 
ordinary facts, before the proof of them ; which yet is over- 
come by almost any proof. There is a presumption of mil- 
lions to one, against the story of Caesar, or of any other man. 
For suppose a number of common facts so and so circum- 
stanced, of which one had no kind of proof, should happen 
to come into one's thoughts ; every one would, without any 
possible doubt, conclude them to be false. And the like 
may be said of a single common fact. And from hence it 
appears, that the question of importance, as to the matter 
before us, is, concerning the degree of the peculiar presump- 
tion supposed against miracles ; not whether there be any 
peculiar presumption at all against them. For, if there be 
the presumption of millions to one, against the most common 
facts ; what can a small presumption, additional to this, 
amount to, though it be peculiar ? It cannot be estimated, 
and is as nothing. The only material question is, whether 
there be any such presumption against miracles, as to render 
them in any sort incredible. Secondly, If we leave out the 
consideration of Religion, we are in such total darkness, 
upon what causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, the 
present course of nature depends ; that there does not appear 
any improbability for or against supposing, that five or six 
thousand years may have given scope for causes, occasions, 
reasons, or circumstances, from whence miraculous interpo- 
sitions may have arisen. And from this, joined with the 
foregoing observation, it will follow, that there must be a 
presumption, beyond all comparison, greater, against the 



174 Of the supposed Presumption, 8$c. part ii. 

particular common facts just now instanced in, than against 
miracles in general; before any evidence of either. But, 
Thirdly, Take in the consideration of Religion, or the moral 
system of the world, and then we see distinct particular rea- 
sons for miracles : to afford mankind instruction additional 
to that of nature, and to attest the truth of it. And this 
gives a real credibility to the supposition, that it might be 
part of the original plan of things, that there should be mi- 
raculous interpositions. Then, Lastly, Miracles must not 
be compared to common natural events ; or to events which, 
though uncommon, are similar to what we daily experience: 
but to the extraordinary phenomena of nature. And then 
the comparison will be between the presumption against 
miracles, and the presumption against such uncommon ap- 
pearances, suppose, as comets, and against there being any 
such powers in nature as magnetism and electricity, so con- 
trary to the properties of other bodies not endued with these 
powers. And before any one can determine, whether there 
be any peculiar presumption against miracles, more than 
against other extraordinary things ; he must consider, what, 
upon first hearing, would be the presumption against the 
last-mentioned appearances and powers, to a person ac- 
quainted only with the daily, monthly, and annual course of 
nature respecting this earth, and with those common powers 
of matter which we every day see. 

Upon all this I conclude ; that there certainly is no such 
presumption against miracles, as to render them in any wise 
incredible : that on the contrary, our being able to discern 
reasons for them* gives a positive credibility to the history 
of them, in cases where those reasons hold : and that it is 
by no means certain, that there is any peculiar presumption 
at all, from analogy, even in the lowest degree, against 
miracles, as distinguished from other extraordinary pheno- 
mena : though it is not worth while to perplex the Reader 
with inquiries into the abstract nature of evidence, in order 
to determine a question, which, without such inquiries, we 
see* is of no importance. 



* P. 173. 



chap, it i. The Credibility of Revelation, &;c. 



175 



CHAP. III. 

Of our Incapacity of judging, what were to be expected in 
a Revelation ; and the Credibility, from Analogy, that it 
must contain Things appearing liable to Objections. 

Besides the objections against the evidence for Chris- 
tianity, many are alleged against the scheme of it ; against 
the whole manner in which it is put and left with the world; 
as well as against several particular relations in Scripture : 
objections drawn from the deficiencies of revelation ; from 
things in it appearing to men foolishness ;* from its con- 
taining matters of offence, which have led, and it must have 
been foreseen would lead, into strange enthusiasm and 
superstition, and be made to serve the purposes of tyranny 
and wickedness ; from its not being universal ; and, which 
is a thing of the same kind, from its evidence not being so 
convincing and satisfactory as it might have been : for this 
last is sometimes turned into a positive argument against 
its truth.f It would be tedious, indeed impossible, to enu- 
merate the several particulars comprehended under the ob- 
jections here referred to ; they being so various, according 
to the different fancies of men. There are persons, who 
think it a strong objection against the authority of Scripture, 
that it is not composed by rules of art, agreed upon by 
critics, for polite and correct writing. iVnd the scorn is 
inexpressible, with which some of the prophetic parts of 
Scripture are treated : partly through the rashness of inter- 
preters ; but very much also, on account of the hierogly- 
phical and figurative language, in which they are left us. 
Some of the principal things of this sort shall be particu- 
larly considered in the following Chapters. But my design 
at present is to observe in general, with respect to this whole 
way of arguing, that, upon supposition of a revelation, it is 
highly credible beforehand, we should be incompetent judges 
of it to a great degree : and that it would contain many 
things appearing to us liable to great objections ; in case we 
judge of it otherwise, than by the analogy of nature. And 
therefore, though objections against the evidence of Chris- 
tianity are most seriously to be considered ; yet objections 
against Christianity itself are, in a great measure, frivolous : 

* 1 Cor. i. 28. f See Ch. vi. 



170 



The Credibility of Revelation part ir. 



almost all objections against it, excepting those which are 
alleged against the particular proofs of its coining from God. 
I express myself with caution, lest I should be mistaken to 
vilify reason ; which is indeed the only faculty we have 
wherewith to judge concerning any thing, even revelation 
itself : or be misunderstood to assert, that a supposed reve- 
lation cannot be proved false, from internal characters. For, 
it may contain clear immoralities or contradictions ; and 
either of these would prove it false. Nor will I take upon 
me to affirm, that nothing else can possibly render any sup- 
posed revelation incredible. Yet still the observation above 
is, I think, true beyond doubt ; that objections against 
Christianity, as distinguished from objections against its 
evidence, are frivolous. To mak^e out this, is the general 
design of the present Chapter. And with regard to the 
whole of it, I cannot but particularly wish, that the proofs 
might be attended to ; rather than the assertions cavilled at, 
upon account of any unacceptable consequences, whether 
real or supposed, which may be drawn from them. For, 
after all, that which is true, must be admitted, though it 
should shew us the shortness of our faculties; and that we 
are in no wise judges of many things, of which we are apt 
to think ourselves very, competent ones. Nor will this be 
any objection with reasonable men, at least upon second 
thought it will not be any objection with such, against the 
justness of the following observations. 

As God governs the world and instructs his creatures, 
according to certain laws or rules, in the known course of 
nature ; known by reason together with experience : so the 
Scripture informs us of a scheme of divine Providence, addi- 
tional to this. It relates, that God has, by revelation, in- 
structed men in things concerning his government, which 
they could not otherwise have known ; and reminded them 
of things, which they might otherwise know ; and attested 
the truth of the whole by miracles. Now if the natural and 
the revealed dispensation of things are both from God, if 
they coincide with each other, and together make up one 
scheme of Providence ; our being incompetent judges of 
one, must render it credible, that we may be incompetent 
judges also of the other. Since, upon experience, the ac- 
knowledged constitution and course of nature is found to be 
greatly different from what, before experience, would have 
been expected ; and such as, men fancy, there lie great ob- 



chap. nr. 



liable to Objections. 



177 



jections against : this renders it beforehand highly credible, 
that they may find the revealed dispensation likewise, if they 
judge of it as they do of the constitution of nature, very dif- 
ferent from expectations formed beforehand ; and liable, in 
appearance, to great objections : objections against the 
scheme itself, and against the degrees and manners of the 
miraculous interpositions, by which it was attested and car- 
ried on. Thus, suppose a prince to govern his dominions in 
the wisest manner possible, by common known laws ; and 
that upon some exigencies he should suspend these laws ; 
and govern, in several instances, in a different manner : if 
one of his subjects were not a competent judge beforehand, 
by what common rules the government should or would be 
carried on ; it could not be expected, that the same person 
would be a competent judge, in what exigencies, or in what 
manner, or to what degree, those laws commonly observed 
would be suspended or deviated from. If he were not a 
judge of the wisdom of the ordinary administration, there is 
no reason to think he would be a judge of the wisdom of the 
extraordinary. If he thought he had objections against the 
former ; doubtless, it is highly supposable, he might think 
also, that he had objections against the latter. And thus, as 
we fall into infinite follies and mistakes, whenever we pre- 
tend, otherwise than from experience and analogy, to judge 
of the constitution and course of nature ; it is evidently sup- 
posable beforehand, that we should fall into as great, in pre- 
tending to judge, in like manner, concerning revelation. 
Nor is there any more ground to expect that this latter should 
appear to us clear of objections, than that the former should. 

These observations, relating to the whole of Christianity, 
are applicable to inspiration in particular. As we are in no 
sort judges beforehand, by what laws or rules, in what degree, 
or by what means, it were to have been expected, that God 
would naturally instruct us ■ so upon supposition of his af- 
fording us light and instruction by revelation, additional to 
what he has afforded us by reason and experience, w 7 e are in 
no sort judges, by what methods, and in what proportion, it 
were to be expected, that this supernatural light and instruc- 
tion would be afforded us. We know not beforehand, what 
degree or kind of natural information, it were to be expected 
God would afford men, each by his own reason and expe- 
rience: nor how far he would enable and effectually dispose 
them to communicate it, whatever it should be, to each other ; 

M 



178 The Credibility of Revelation part ir. 

nor whether the evidence of it would be, certain, highly pro- 
bable, or doubtful; nor whether it would be given with equal 
clearness and conviction to ail. Nor could we guess, upon 
any good ground I mean, whether natural knowledge, or 
even the faculty itself, by which we are capable of attaining 
it, reason, would be given us at once, or gradually. In like 
manner, we are wholly ignorant, what degree of new know- 
ledge, it were to be expected, God would give mankind by 
revelation, upon supposition of his affording one: or how far, 
or in what way, he would interpose miraculously, to qualify 
them, to whom he should originally make the revelation, for 
communicating the knowledge given by it ; and to secure 
their doing it to the age in which they should live; and to 
secure its being transmitted to posterity. We are equally 
ignorant, whether the evidence of it would be certain, or 
highly probable, or doubtful :* or whether all who should 
have any degree of instruction from it, and any degree of 
evidence of its truth, would have the same : or whether the 
scheme would be revealed at once, or unfolded gradually. 
Nay we are not in any sort able to judge, whether it were 
to have been expected, that the revelation should have been 
committed to writing ; or left to be handed down, and con- 
sequently corrupted, by verbal tradition, and at length sunk 
under it, if mankind so pleased, and during such time as they 
are permitted, in the degree they evidently are, to act as they 
will. 

But it may be said, " that a revelation in some of the 
above-mentioned circumstances, one, for instance, which was 
not committed to writing, and thus secured against danger 
of corruption, would not have answered its purpose." I ask, 
what purpose ? It would not have answered all the purposes, 
which it has now answered, and in the same degree : but it 
would have answered others, or the same in different degrees. 
And which of these were the purposes of God, and best fell 
in with his general government, we could not at all have 
determined beforehand. 

Now since it has been shewn, that we have no principles 
of reason, upon which to judge beforehand, how it were to 
be expected revelation should have been left, or what was 
most suitable to the divine plan of government, in any of the 
forementioned respects ; it must be quite frivolous to object 
afterward as to any of them, against its being left in one 

* See Chap. vi. 



CHAP. III. 



liable to Objections. 



179 



way, rather than another: for this would be to object against 
things, upon account of their being different from expec- 
tations, which have been shewn to be without reason. And 
thus we see, that the only question concerning the truth of 
Christianity is, whether it be a real revelation ; not whether 
it be attended with every circumstance which we should have 
looked for : and concerning the authority of Scripture, whe- 
ther it be what it claims to be ; not whether it be a book of 
such sort, and so promulged, as weak men are apt to fancy 
a book containing a divine revelation should. And therefore, 
neither obscurity, nor seeming inaccuracy of style, nor various 
readings, nor early disputes about the authors of particular 
parts ; nor any other things of the like kind, though they had 
been much more considerable in degree than they are, could 
overthrow the authority of the Scripture : unless the Prophets, 
Apostles, or our Lord, had promised, that the book contain- 
ing the divine revelation should be secure from those things. 
Nor indeed can any objections overthrow such a kind of re- 
velation as the Christian claims to be, since there are no 
objections against the morality of it,* but such as can shew, 
that there is no proof of miracles wrought originally in attes- 
tation of it; no appearance of any thing miraculous in its 
obtaining in the world; nor any of prophecy, that is, of 
events foretold, which human sagacity could not foresee. If 
it can be shewn, that the proof alleged for all these is abso- 
lutely none at all, then is revelation overturned. But were it 
allowed, that the proof of any one or all of them is lower 
than is allowed; yet, whilst any proof of them remains, reve- 
lation will stand upon much the same foot it does at present, 
as to all the purposes of life and practice, and ought to have 
the like influence upon our behaviour. 

From the foregoing observations too, it will follow, and 
those who will thoroughly examine into revelation will find 
it worth remarking ; that there are several ways of arguing, 
which, though just with regard to other writings, are not 
applicable to Scripture : at least not to the prophetic parts of 
it. We cannot argue, for instance, that this cannot be the 
sense or intent of such a passage of Scripture ; for, if it had, 
it would have been expressed more plainly, or have been 
represented under a more apt figure or hieroglyphic : yet we 
may justly argue thus, with respect to common books. And 
the reason of this difference is very evident ; that in Scripture 

* P. 185. 

M 2 



180 



The Credibility of Revelation part it 



we are not competent judges, as we are in common books, 
how plainly it were to have been expected, what is the true 
sense should have been expressed, or under how apt an image 
figured. The only question is, what appearance there is, 
that this is the sense ; and scarce at all, how much more 
determinately or accurately it might have been expressed or 
figured. 

" But is it not self-evident, that internal improbabilities of 
all kinds weaken external probable proof?" Doubtless. But 
to what practical purpose can this be alleged here, when it 
has been proved before,* that real internal improbabilities, 
which rise even to moral certainty, are overcome by the most 
ordinary testimony ; and when it now has been made appear, 
that we scarce know what are improbabilities, as to the mat- 
ter we are here considering : as it will farther appear from 
what follows. 

For though from the observations above made it is mani- 
fest, that we are not in any sort competent judges, what 
supernatural instruction were to have been expected; and 
though it is self-evident, that the objections of an incom- 
petent judgment must be frivolous ; yet it may be proper to 
go one step farther, and observe ; that if men will be regard- 
less of these things, and pretend to judge of the Scripture 
by preconceived expectations ; the analogy of nature shews 
beforehand, not only that it is highly credible they may, but 
also probable that they will, imagine they have strong objec- 
tions against it, however really unexceptionable : for so, 
prior to experience, they would think they had, against the 
circumstances, and degrees, and the whole manner of that 
instruction, which is afforded by the ordinary course of nature". 
Were the instruction which God affords to brute creatures by 
instincts and mere propensions, and to mankind by these 
together with reason, matter of probable proof, and not of 
certain observation ; it would be rejected as incredible, in 
many instances of it, only upon account of the means by 
which this instruction is given, the seeming disproportions, 
the limitations, necessary conditions, and circumstances of 
it. For instance: would it not have been thought highly 
improbable, that men should have been so much more capable 
of discovering, even to certainty, the general laws of matter, 
and the magnitudes, paths, and revolutions of heavenly 
bodies ; than the occasions and cures of distempers, and 

* P. 172. 



CHAP. III. 



liable to Objections. 



181 



many other things, in which human life seems so much more 
nearly concerned, than in astronomy ? How capricious and 
irregular a way of information, would it be said, is that of 
invention, by means of which nature instructs us in matters 
of science, and in many things, upon which the affairs of the 
world greatly depend : that a man should, by this faculty, 
be made acquainted with a thing in an instant, when per- 
haps he is thinking of somewhat else, which he has in vain 
been searching after, it may be, for years. So likewise the 
imperfections attending the only method, by which nature 
enables and directs us to communicate our thoughts to each 
other, are innumerable. Language is, in its very nature, 
inadequate, ambiguous, liable to infinite abuse, even from 
negligence ; and so liable to it from design, that every man 
can deceive and betray by it. And, to mention but one in- 
stance more ; that brutes, without reason, should act, in many 
respects, with a sagacity and foresight vastly greater than 
what men have in those respects, would,, be thought impos- 
sible. Yet it is certain they do act with such superior fore- 
sight : whether it be their own indeed, is another question. 
From these things, it is highly credible beforehand, that 
upon supposition God should afford men some additional 
instruction by revelation, it would be with circumstances, in 
manners, degrees, and respects, which we should be apt to 
fancy we had great objections against the credibility of. Nor 
are the objections against the Scripture, nor against Chris- 
tianity in general, at all more or greater, than the analogy 
of nature would beforehand — not perhaps give ground to 
expect; for this analogy may not be sufficient, in some cases, 
to ground an expectation upon ; but no more nor greater, 
than analogy would shew it, beforehand, to be supposable 
and credible, that there might seem to lie against revelation. 

By applying these general observations to a particular ob- 
jection, it will be more distinctly seen, how they are appli- 
cable to others of the like kind : and indeed to almost all 
objections against Christianity, as distinguished from objec- 
tions against its evidence. It appears from Scripture, that, 
as it was not unusual in the apostolic age, for persons, upon 
their conversion to Christianity, to be endued with miraculous 
gifts ; so, some of those persons exercised these gifts in a 
strangely irregular and disorderly manner ; and this is made 
an objection against their being really miraculous. Now the 
foregoing observations quite remove this objection, how con- 



182 



The Credibility of Revelation part it. 



siderable soever it may appear at first sight. For, consider 
a person endued with any of these gifts ; for instance, that 
of tongues : it is to be supposed, that he had the same power 
over this miraculous gift, as he would have had over it, had 
it been the effect of habit, of study and use, as it ordinarily 
is ; or the same power over it, as he had over any other na- 
tural endowment. Consequently, he would use it in the 
same manner he did any other ; either regularly, and upon 
proper occasions only, or irregularly, and upon improper 
ones : according to his sense of decency, and his character 
of prudence. Where then is the objection? Why, if this 
miraculous power was indeed given to the world to propa- 
gate Christianity, and attest the truth of it, we might, it 
seems, have expected, that other sort of persons should have 
been chosen to be invested with it ; or that these should, at 
the same time, have been endued with prudence; or that 
they should have been continually restrained and directed in 
the exercise of it: >i. e. that God should have miraculously 
interposed, if at all, in a different manner, or higher degree. 
But, from the observations made above, it is undeniably evi- 
dent, that we are not judges in what degrees and manners it 
were to have been expected he should miraculously interpose ; 
upon supposition of his doing it in some degree and manner. 
Nor, in the natural course of Providence, are superior gifts 
of memory, eloquence, knowledge, and other talents of great 
influence, conferred only on persons of prudence and decency, 
or such as are disposed to make the properest use of them. 
Nor is the instruction and admonition naturally afforded us for 
the conduct of life, particularly in our education, commonly 
given in a manner the most suited to recommend it ; but often 
with circumstances apt to prejudice us against such instruction. 

One might go on to add, that there is a great resemblance 
between the light of nature and of revelation, in several other 
respects. Practical Christianity, or that faith and behaviour 
which renders a man a Christian, is a plain and obvious 
thing : like the common rules of conduct, with respect to 
our ordinary temporal affairs. The more distinct and par- 
ticular knowledge of those things, the study of which the 
Apostle calls going on unto perfection ,* and of the prophetic 
parts of revelation, like many parts of natural and even civil 
knowledge, may require very exact thought, and careful con- 
sideration. The hindrances too, of natural, and of superna- 

* Heb. vi. I. 



CHAP. III. 



liable to Objections. 



183 



tural light and knowledge, have been of the same kind. 
And as it is owned the whole scheme of Scripture is not yet 
understood ; so, if it ever comes to be understood, before the 
restitution of all things* and without miraculous interposi- 
tions ; it must be in the same way as natural knowledge is 
come at : by the continuance and progress of learning and 
of liberty ; and by particular persons attending to, compar- 
ing and pursuing, intimations scattered up and down it, 
which are overlooked and disregarded by the generality of 
the world. For this is the way, in which all improvements 
are made; by thoughtful men's tracing on obscure hints, as 
it were, dropped us by nature accidentally, or which seem 
to come into our minds by chance. Nor is it at all incredible, 
that a book, which has been so long in the possession of man- 
kind, should contain many truths as yet undiscovered. For, 
all the same phenomena, and the same faculties of investiga- 
tion, from which such great discoveries in natural knowledge 
have been made in the present and last age, w r ere equally in 
the possession of mankind, several thousand years before. 
And possibly it might be intended, that events, as they come 
to pass, should open and ascertain the meaning of several 
parts of Scripture. 

It may be objected, that this analogy fails in a material 
respect : for that natural knowledge is of little or no conse- 
quence. But I have been speaking of the general instruction 
which nature does or does not afford us. And besides, some 
parts of natural knowledge, in the more common restrained 
sense of the words, are of the greatest consequence to the 
ease and convenience of life. But suppose the analogy did, 
as it does not, fail in this respect; yet it might be abundantly 
supplied, from the whole constitution and course of nature : 
which shews, that God does not dispense his gifts according 
to our notions of the advantage and consequence they would 
be of to us. And this in general, with his method of dis- 
pensing knowledge in particular, would together make out 
an analogy full to the point before us. 

But it may be objected still farther and more generally ; 
" The Scripture represents the world as in a state of ruin, 
and Christianity as an expedient to recover it, to help in 
these respects where nature fails : in particular, to supply 
the deficiencies of natural light. Is it credible then, that so 
many ages should have been let pass, before a matter of 

* Acts iii. 21. 



184 



The Credibility of Revelation part n. 



such a sort, of so great and so general importance, was made 
known to mankind ; and then that it should be made known 
to so small a part of them? Is it conceivable, that this supply 
should be so very deficient, should have the like obscurity 
and doubtfulness, be liable to the like perversions, in short, 
lie open to all the like objections, as the light of nature 
itself?' ^ Without determining how far this in fact is so, I 
answer ; it is by no means incredible, that it might be so, if 
the light of nature and of revelation be from the same hand. 
Men are naturally liable to diseases : for which God, in his 
good providence, has provided natural remedies.^ But re- 
medies existing in nature have been unknown to mankind 
for many ages : are known but to few now : probably many 
valuable ones are not known yet. Great has been and is the 
obscurity and difficulty, in the nature and application of them. 
Circumstances seem often to make them very improper, where 
they are absolutely necessary. It is after long labour and 
study, and many unsuccessful endeavours, that they are 
brought to be as useful as they are ; after high contempt 
and absolute rejection of the most useful we have; and after 
disputes and doubts, which have seemed to be endless. The 
best remedies too, when unskilfully, much more if dis- 
honestly applied, may produce new diseases ; and with the 
rightest application the success of them is often doubtful. 
In many cases they are not at all effectual : where they are, 
it is often very slowly: and the application of them, and the 
necessary regimen accompanying it, is, not uncommonly, so 
disagreeable, that some will not submit to them ; and satisfy 
themselves with the excuse, that, if they would, it is not cer- 
tain whether it would be successful. And many persons, 
who labour under diseases, for which there are known na- 
tural remedies, are not so happy as to be always, if ever, in 
the way of them. In a word, the remedies which nature has 
provided for diseases are neither certain, perfect, nor uni- 
versal. And indeed the same principles of arguing, which 
would lead us to conclude, that they must be so, would lead 
us likewise to conclude, that there could be no occasion for 
them; i.e. that there could be no diseases at all. And there- 
fore our experience that there are diseases shews, that it is 
credible beforehand, upon supposition nature has provided 
remedies for them, that these remedies may be, as by expe- 
rience we find they are, not certain, nor perfect, nor univer- 
* Ch. vi, f See Ch. v. 



CHAP. III. 



liable to Objections. 



185 



sal; because it shews, that the principles upon which we 
should expect the contrary are fallacious. 

And now, what is the just consequence from all these 
things? Not that reason is no judge of what is offered to us 
as being of divine revelation. For this would be to infer, 
that we are unable to judge of any thing, because we are 
unable to judge of all things. Reason can, and it ought to 
judge, not only of the meaning, but also of the morality and 
the evidence of revelation. First; It is the province of reason 
to judge of the morality of the Scripture ; i. e. not whether 
it contains things different from what we should have ex- 
pected from a wise, just, and good Being ; for objections 
from hence have been now obviated :j but whether it con- 
tains things plainly contradictory to wisdom, justice, or good- 
ness ; to what the light of nature teaches us of God. And 
I know nothing of this sort objected against Scripture, ex- 
cepting such objections as are formed upon suppositions, 
which would equally conclude, that the constitution of na- 
ture is contradictory to wisdom, justice, or goodness; which 
most certainly it is not. Indeed there are some particular 
precepts in Scripture, given to particular persons, requiring 
actions, which would be immoral and vicious, were it not for 
such precepts. But it is easy to see, that all these are of 
such a kind, as that the precept changes the whole nature of 
the case and of the action ; and both constitutes and shews 
that not to be unjust or immoral, which, prior to the precept, 
must have appeared and really have been so : which may 
well be, since none of these precepts are contrary to immuta- 
ble morality. If it were commanded, to cultivate the prin- 
ciples, and act from the spirit of treachery, ingratitude, cru- 
elty; the command would not alter the nature of the case or 
of the action, in any of these instances. But it is quite other- 
wise in precepts, which require only the doing an external 
action: for instance, taking away the property or life of any. 
For men have no right to either life or property, but what 
arises solely from the grant of God : when this grant is re- 
voked, they cease to have any right at all in either : and 
when this revocation is made known, as surely it is possible 
it may be, it must cease to be unjust to deprive them of either. 
And though a course of external acts, which without com- 
mand would be immoral, must make an immoral habit ; yet 
a few detached commands have no such natural tendency. 
I thought proper to say thus much of the few Scripture pre- 



186 The Credibility of Revelation, 8$c. part ii. 

cepts, which require, not vicious actions, but actions which 
would have been vicious had it not been for such precepts ; 
because they are sometimes weakly urged as immoral, and 
great weight is laid upon objections drawn from them. But 
to me there seems no difficulty at all in these precepts, but 
what arises from their being offences : i. e. from their being 
liable to be perverted, as indeed they are, by wicked design- 
ing men, to serve the most horrid purposes ; and, perhaps, 
to mislead the weak and enthusiastic. And objections from 
this head are not objections against revelation ; but against 
the whole notion of religion, as a trial ; and against the ge- 
neral constitution of nature. Secondly, Reason is able to 
judge, and must, of the evidence of revelation, and of the 
objections urged against that evidence : which shall be the 
subject of a following Chapter.* 

But the consequence of the foregoing observations is, that 
the question upon which the truth of Christianity depends is 
scarce at all, what objections there are against its scheme, 
since there are none against the morality of it; but what ob- 
jections there are against its evidence ; or, what proof there re- 
mains of it, after due allowances made for the objections against 
that proof: because it has been shewn, that the objections 
against Christianity, as distinguished from objections against 
its evidence, are frivolous. For surely very little weight, if 
any at all, is to be laid upon a way of arguing and objecting, 
which, when applied to the general constitution of nature, 
experience shews not to be conclusive : and such, I think, is 
the whole way of objecting treated of throughout this Chapter. 
It is resolvable into principles, and goes upon suppositions, 
which mislead us to think, that the Author of Nature would 
not act, as we experience he does ; or would act, in such and 
such cases, as we experience he does not in like cases. But 
the unreasonableness of this way of objecting will appear yet 
more evidently from hence, that the chief things thus ob- 
jected against are justified, as shall be farther shewn,f by 
distinct, particular, and full analogies, in the constitution and 
course of nature. 

But it is to be remembered, that, as frivolous as objections 
of the foregoing sort against revelation are, yet, when a sup- 
posed revelation is more consistent with itself, and has a more 
general .and uniform tendency to promote virtue, than, all 
circumstances considered, could have been expected from en- 
* Chap. vii. t Cb. iv. latter part, and v. vi. 



chap. iv. Christianity imperfectly comprehended* 187 

tliusiasm and political views; this is a presumptive proof of 
its not proceeding from them, and so of its truth : because 
we are competent judges, what might have been expected 
from enthusiasm and political views. 

CHAP. IV. 

Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, 
imperfectly comp reh ended. 

It hath been now shewn,* that the analogy of nature renders 
it highly credible beforehand, that supposing a revelation to 
be made, it must contain many things very different from 
what we should have expected, and such as appear open to 
great objections : and that this observation, in good measure, 
takes off the force of those objections, or rather precludes them. 
But it may be alleged, that this is a very partial answer to 
such objections, or a very unsatisfactory way of obviating 
them : because it doth not shew at all, that the things ob- 
jected against can be wise, just, and good ; much less, that 
it is credible they are so. It will therefore be proper to shew 
this distinctly ; by applying to these objections against the 
wisdom, justice, and goodness of Christianity, the answer 
abovef given to the like objections against the constitution of 
Nature: before we consider the particular analogies in the 
latter, to the particular things objected against in the former. 
Now that which affords a sufficient answer to objections against 
the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the constitution of Na- 
ture, is its being a constitution, asystem/or scheme, imperfectly 
comprehended; a scheme in which means are made use of to 
accomplish ends; and which is carried on by general laws. 
For from these things it has been proved, not only to be 
possible, but also to be credible, that those things which are 
objected against may be consistent with wisdom, justice, and 
goodness; nay, may be instances of them: and even that the 
constitution and government of Nature may be perfect in the 
highest possible degree. If Christianity then be a scheme, 
and of the like kind; it is evident, the like objections against 
it must admit of the like answer. And, 

I. Christianity is a scheme, quite beyond our comprehen- 
sion. The moral government of God is exercised, by gra- 
dually conducting things so in the course of his providence, 

* In the foregoing Chapter. 
\ Part I. Ch. vii. to which this all along refers. 



188 



Christianity a Scheme, 



PART II 



that every one, at length and upon the whole, shall receive 
according to his deserts ; and neither fraud nor violence, but 
truth and right, shall finally prevail. Christianity is a par- 
ticular scheme under this general plan of Providence, and a 
a part of it, conducive to its completion, with regard to man- 
kind : consisting itself also of various parts, and a mysterious 
economy, which has been carrying on from the time the world 
came into its present wretched state, and is still carrying on, 
for its recovery, by a divine person, the Messiah ; who is to 
gather together in one the children of God, that are scattered 
abroad* and establish an everlasting kingdom, vrtierein 
dwelleth righteousness.^ And in order to it ; after various 
manifestations of things, relating to this great and general 
scheme of Providence, through a succession of many ages: 
(For the Spirit of Christ which was in the prophets, testified 
beforehand his sufferings, and the glory that should follow : 
unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto 
us they did minister the things which are now reported unto 
us by them that have preached the Gospel; which things the 
angels desire to look into :J) — after various dispensations, 
looking forward, and preparatory, to this final salvation : in 
the fulness of time, when infinite wisdom thought fit ; He, 
being in the form of God, — made himself of no reputation, and 
took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the like- 
ness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled 
himself, and became obedient to death, even the death of the 
cross: wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given 
him a name, which is above every name: that at the name of 
Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in 
the earth, and things under the earth: and that every tongue 
should confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God 
the Father. \ Parts likewise of this economy are the miraculous 
mission of the Holy Ghost, and his ordinary assistances given 
to good men : the invisible government, which Christ at present 
exercises over his church : that which he himself refers to in 
these words; In my Fathei's house are many mansions — I go 
to prepare a place for yow\ and his future return to judge the 
world in righteousness, and completely re-establish the king- 
dom of God. For the Father judgeth no man; but hath com- 
mitted all judgment unto the Son : that all men should honour 
the Son, even as they honour the Father.^ All power is given 

* John xi. 52. f 2 Pet. iii. 13. I 1 Pet. i. 11, 12. 

§ Phil. ii. H John xiv. 2. f . John v. 22, 23. 



chap. iv. imperfectly comprehended. 



189 



unto him in heaven and in earth.* And he must reign, till he 
hath put all enemies under his feet. Then cometh the end, 
when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to God, even the 
Father; when he shall have put down all rule, and all autho- 
rity and power. And when all things shall be subdued unto 
him, then shall the Son also himself be subject unto him that 
put all things under him, that God may be all in a 11.^ Now 
little, surely, need be said to shew, that this system, or scheme 
of things, is but imperfectly comprehended by us. The 
Scripture expressly asserts it to be so. And indeed one can- 
not read a passage relating to this great mystery of godliness,^ 
but what immediately runs up into something which shews 
us our ignorance in it; as every thing in nature shews us 
our ignorance in the constitution of nature. And who- 
ever will seriously consider that part of the Christian scheme, 
which is revealed in Scripture, will find so much more un- 
revealed, as will convince him, that, to all the purposes of 
judging and objecting, we know as little of it, as of the con- 
stitution of nature. Our ignorance, therefore, is as much an 
answer to our objections against the perfection of one, as 
against the perfection of the other.§ 

II. It is obvious too, that in the Christian dispensation, as 
much as in the natural scheme of things, means are made use 
of to accomplish ends. And the observation of this furnishes 
us with the same answer, to objections against the perfection 
of Christianity, as to objections of the like kind, against the 
constitution of nature. It shews the credibility, that the things 
objected against, how foolish\ soever they appear to men, may 
be the very best means of accomplishing the very best ends. 
And their appearing foolishness is no presumption against 
this, in a scheme so greatly beyond our comprehension.^ 

III. The credibility, that the Christian dispensation may 
have been, all along, carried on by general laws,*** no less 
than the course of nature, may require to be more distinctly 
made out. Consider then, upon what ground it is we say, 
that the whole common course of nature is carried on ac- 
cording to general fore-ordained laws. We know indeed 
several of the general laws of matter : and a great part of 
the natural behaviour of living agents is reducible to ge- 
neral laws. But we know in a manner nothing, by what 
laws, storms and tempests, earthquakes, famine, pestilence, 

* Matth. xxviii. 18. f 1 Cor. xv. J 1 Tim. iii. 16. 

J P. 145, &c. H 1 Cor. i. 1T P. 148, 149. ** P. 149, 150. 



1 90 Christianity a Scheme, part i i . 

become the instruments of destruction to mankind. And t 
the laws, by which persons born into the world at such a 
time and place are of such capacities, geniuses, tempers ; the 
laws, by which thoughts come into ourjnind, in a multitude 
of cases ; and by which innumerable things happen, of the . 
greatest influence upon the affairs and state of the world ; 
these laws are so wholly unknown to us, that we call the j 
events, which come to pass by them, accidental : though all 
reasonable men know certainly, that there cannot, in reality, 
be any such thing as chance; and conclude, that the things 
which have this appearance are the result of general laws, and 
may be reduced into them. It is then but an exceeding little 
way, and in but a very few respects, that we can trace up 
the natural course of things before us, to general laws. And 
it is only from analogy, that we conclude the whole of it to 
be capable of being reduced into them : only from our seeing, 
that part is so. It is from our finding, that the course of na- 
ture, in some respects and so far, goes on by general laws, 
that we conclude this of the rest. And if that be a just, ground 
for such a conclusion, it is a just ground also, if not to con- 
clude, yet to apprehend, to render it supposable and credi- 
ble, which is sufficient for answering objections, that God's 
miraculous interpositions may have been, all along in like 
manner, by general laws of wisdom. Thus, that miraculous 
powers should be exerted, at such times, upon such occa- 
sions, in such degrees and manners, and with regard to such 
persons, rather than others ; that the affairs of the world, be- 
ing permitted to go on in their natural course so far, should, 
just at such a point, have a new direction given them by 
miraculous interpositions ; that these interpositions should 
be exactly in such degrees and respects only ; all this may 
have been by general laws. These laws are unknown indeed 
to us: but no more unknown, than the laws from whence it 
is, that some die as soon as they are born, and others live to 
extreme old age; that one man is so superior to another in 
understanding; with innumerable more things, which, as 
was before observed, we cannot reduce to any laws or rules 
at all, though it is taken for granted, they are as much redu- 
cible to general ones, as gravitation. Now, if the revealed 
dispensations of Providence, and miraculous interpositions, 
be by general laws, as well as God's ordinary government in 
the course of nature, made known by reason and experience ; 
there is no more reason to expect that every exigence, as it 



chap. iv. imperfectly comprehended. 191 

arises, should be provided for by these general laws or miracu- 
lous interpositions, than that every exigence in nature should, 
by the general laws of nature : yet there might be wise and 
good reasons, that -miraculous interpositions should be by 
general laws ; and that these laws should not be broken in 
upon, or deviated from, by other miracles. 

Upon the whole then : the appearance of deficiencies and 
irregularities in nature is owing to its being a scheme but in 
part made known, and of such a certain particular kind in 
other respects. Now we see no more reason why the frame 
and course of nature should be such a scheme, than wiry 
Christianity should. And that the former is such a scheme, 
renders it credible, that the latter, upon supposition of its 
truth, may be so too. And as it is manifest, that Christianity 
is a scheme revealed but in part, and a scheme in which means 
are made use of to accomplish ends, like to that of nature : 
so the credibility, that it may have been all along carried on 
by general laws, no less than the course of nature, has been dis- 
tinctly proved. And from all this it is beforehand credible 
that there might, I think probable that there would, be the like 
appearance of deficiencies and irregularities in Christianity, 
as in nature : i. e. that Christianity would be liable to the like 
objections, as the frame of nature. And these objections are 
answered by these observations concerning Christianity ; as 
the like objections against the frame of nature are answered 
by the like observations concerning the frame of nature. 

The objections against Christianity, considered as a mat- 
, ter of fact,* having, in general, been obviated in the preced- 
ing Chapter; and the same, considered as made against the 
wisdom and goodness of it, having been obviated in this : the 
next thing, according to the method proposed, is to shew, 
that the principal objections, in particular, against Chris- 
tianity, may be answered, by particular and full analogies in 
nature. And as one of them is made against the whole scheme 
of it together, as just now described, I choose to consider it 
here, rather than in a distinct Chapter by itself. The thing 
objected against this scheme of the Gospel is, " that it seems 
to suppose God was reduced to the necessity of a long series 
of intricate means, in order to accomplish his ends, the reco- 
very and salvation of the world : in like sort as men, for 
want of understanding or power, not being able to come at 

* P. 141, &c 



192 Christianity imperfectly comprehended, part ii. 

their ends directly, are forced to go round-about ways, and 
make use of many perplexed contrivances to arrive at them." 
Now every thing which we see shews the folly of this, consi- 
dered as an objection against the truth of Christianity. For, 
according to our manner of conception, God makes use of 
variety of means, what we often think tedious ones, in the 
natural course of providence, for the accomplishment of all 
his ends. Indeed it is certain there is somewhat in this mat- 
ter quite beyond our comprehension : but the mystery is as 
great in nature as in Christianity. We know what we our- 
selves aim at, as final ends : and what courses we take, merely 
as means conducing to those ends. But we are greatly ig- 
norant how far things are considered by the Author of Nature, 
under the single notion of means and ends ; so as that it may 
be said, this is merely an end, and that merely means, in his 
regard. And whether there be not some peculiar absurdity in 
our very manner of conception, concerning this matter, some- 
what contradictory arising from our extremely imperfect views 
of things, it is impossible to say. However, thus much is 
manifest, that the whole natural world and government of it 
is a scheme or system ; not a fixed, but a progressive one : a 
scheme in which the operation of various means takes up a 
great length of time, before the ends they tend to can be at- 
tained. The change of seasons, the ripening of the fruits of 
the earth, the very history of a flower, is an instance of this : 
and so is human life. Thus vegetable bodies, and those of 
animals, though possibly formed at once, yet grow up by de- 
grees to a mature state. And thus rational agents, who ani- 
mate these latter bodies, are naturally directed to form each 
his own manners and character, by the gradual gaining of 
knowledge and experience, and by a long course of action. 
Our existence is not only successive, as it must be of necessity; 
but one state of our life and being is appointed by God, to 
be a preparation for another ; and that, to be the means of 
attaining to another succeeding one : infancy to childhood • 
childhood to youth ; youth to mature age. Men are impa- 
tient, and for precipitating things : but the Author of Nature 
appears deliberate throughout his operations ; accomplishing 
his natural ends by slow successive steps. And there is a 
plan of things beforehand laid out, which, from the nature 
of it, requires various systems of means, as well as length of 
time, in order to the carrying on its several parts into execu- 
tion. Thus, in the daily course of natural providence, God 



chap, v . The Appointment of a Mediator. 1 93 

operates in the very same manner, as in the dispensation of 
Christianity : making one thing subservient to another ; this, 
to somewhat farther ; and so on, through a progressive series 
of means, which extend, both backward and forward, beyond 
our utmost view. Of this manner of operation, every thing 
we see in the course of nature is as much an instance, as any 
part of the Christian dispensation. 

CHAP. V. 

Of the particular System of Christianity ; the Appointment of 
a Mediator ; and the Redemption of the World by him. 

There is not, I think, any thing relating to Christianity, 
which has been more objected against, than the mediation of 
Christ, in some or other of its parts. Yet upon thorough con- 
sideration, there seems nothing less justly liable to it. For, 

T. The whole analogy of nature removes all imagined pre- 
sumption against the general notion of a Mediator between 
God and man* For w T e find all living creatures are brought 
into the world, and their life in infancy is preserved, by the 
instrumentality of others : and every satisfaction of it, some 
way or other, is bestowed by the like means. So that the 
visible government, which God exercises over the world, is 
by the instrumentality and mediation of others. And how 
far his invisible government be or be not so, it is impossible 
to determine at all by reason. And the supposition, that part 
of it is so, appears, to say the least, altogether as credible, as 
the contrary. There is then no sort of objection, from the 
light of nature, against the general notion of a mediator be- 
tween God and man, considered as a doctrine of Christianity, 
or as an appointment in this dispensation : since we find by 
experience, that God does appoint mediators, to be the in- 
struments of good and evil to us : the instruments of his justice 
and his mercy. And the objection here referred to is urged, 
not against mediation in that high, eminent, and peculiar 
sense, in which Christ is our mediator; but absolutely against 
the whole notion itself of a mediator at all. 

II. As we must suppose, that the world is under the pro- 
per moral government of God, or in a state of religion, before 
we can enter into consideration of the revealed doctrine, con- 
cerning the redemption of it by Christ : so that supposition 

* 1 Tim. ii. 5. 
N 



194 The Appointment of part ii. 

is here to be distinctly taken notice of. Now the divine moral 
government which religion teaches us, implies, that the con- 
sequence of vice shall be misery, in some future state, by the 
righteous judgment of God. That such consequent punish- 
ment shall take effect by his appointment, is necessarily im- 
plied. But, as it is not in any sort to be supposed, that we 
are made acquainted with all the ends or reasons, for which 
it is fit future punishments should be inflicted, or why God 
has appointed such and such consequent misery should follow 
vice ; and as we are altogether in the dark, how or in what 
manner it shall follow, by what immediate occasions, or by 
the instrumentality of what means ; there is no absurdity in 
supposing it may follow in a way analogous to that, in which 
many miseries follow such and such courses of action at pre- 
sent ; poverty, sickness, infamy, untimely death by diseases, 
death from the hands of civil justice. There is no absurdity 
in supposing future punishment may follow wickedness of 
course, as we speak, or in the way of natural consequence from 
God's original constitution of the world : from the nature he 
has given us, and from the condition in which he places us ; 
or in a like manner, as a person rashly trifling upon a preci- 
pice, in the way of natural consequence, fails down ; in the 
way of natural consequence, breaks his limbs, suppose ; in the 
way of natural consequence of this, without help, perishes. 

Some good men may perhaps be offended with hearing it 
spoken of as a supposable thing that future punishments of 
wickedness may be in the way of natural consequence : as if 
this were taking the execution of justice out of the hands of 
God, and giving it to nature. But they should remember, 
that when things come to pass according to the course of na- 
ture, this does not hinder them from being his doing, who is 
the God of nature : and that the Scripture ascribes those pu- 
nishments to divine justice, which are known to be natural ; 
and which must be called so, when distinguished from such 
as are miraculous. But after all, this supposition, or rather 
this way of speaking, is here made use of only by way of il- 
lustration of the subject before us. For since it must be ad- 
mitted, that the future punishment of wickedness is not a 
matter of arbitrary appointment, but of reason, equity, and 
justice ; it comes, for ought I see, to the same thing, whether 
it is supposed to be inflicted in a way analogous to that, in 
which the temporal punishments of vice and folly are inflicted, 
or in any other way. And though there were a difference, 



chap. v. a Mediator and Redeemer. 195 

it is allowable, in the present case, to make this supposition, 
plainly not an incredible one ; that future punishment may 
follow wickedness in the way of natural consequence, or ac- 
cording to some general laws of government already esta- 
blished in the universe. 

III. Upon this supposition, or even without it, we may 
observe somewhat, much to the present purpose, in the con- 
stitution of nature or appointments of Providence : the pro- 
vision which is made, that all the bad natural consequences 
of men's actions should not always actually follow ; or that 
such bad consequences, as, according to the settled course of 
things, would inevitably have followed if not prevented, 
should, in certain degrees, be prevented. We are apt pre- 
sumptuously to imagine, that the world might have been so 
constituted, as that there would not have been any such thing 
as misery or evil. On the contrary we find the Author of 
Nature permits it : but then he has provided reliefs, and in 
many cases perfect remedies for it, after some pains and diffi- 
culties ; reliefs and remedies even for that evil, which is the 
fruit of our own misconduct ; and which, in the course of 
nature, would have continued, and ended in our destruction, 
but for such remedies. And this is an instance both of seve- 
rity and of indulgence, in the constitution of nature. Thus 
all the bad consequences, now mentioned, of a man's trifling 
upon a precipice, might be prevented. And though all were 
not, yet some of them might, by proper interposition, if not 
rejected : by another's coming to the rash man's relief, with 
his own laying hold on that relief, in such sort as the case 
required. Persons may do a great deal themselves towards 
preventing the bad consequences of their follies : and more 
may be done by themselves, together with the assistance of 
others their fellow-creatures ; which assistance Nature re- 
quires and prompts us to. This is the general constitution 
of the world. Now suppose it had been so constituted, that 
after such actions were done, as were foreseen naturally to 
draw after them misery to the doer, it should have been no 
more in human power to have prevented that naturally con- 
sequent misery, in any instance, than it is in all : no one can 
say, whether such a more severe constitution of things might 
not yet have been really good. But, that, on the contrary, 
provision is made by nature, that we may and do, to so great 
degree, prevent the bad natural, effects of our follies ; this 
may be called mercy or compassion in the original constitu- 

n 2 



196 



The Appointment of 



PART II. 



tion of the world : compassion, as distinguished from, good- 
ness in general. And, the whole known constitution and 
course of things affording us instances of such compassion, 
it would be according to the analogy of nature, to hope, that, 
however ruinous the natural consequences of vice might be, 
from the general laws of God's government over the universe; 
yet provision might be made, possibly might have been ori- 
ginally made, for preventing those ruinous consequences from 
inevitably following: at least from following universally, and 
in all cases. 

Many, I am sensible, will wonder at finding this made a 
question, or spoken of as in any degree doubtful. The ge- 
nerality of mankind are so far from having that awful sense 
of things, which the present state of vice and misery and 
darkness seems to make but reasonable, that they have 
scarce any apprehension or thought at all about this matter, 
any way : and some serious persons may have spoken unad- 
visedly concerning it. But let us observe, what we expe- 
rience to be, and what, from the very constitution of nature, 
cannot but be, the consequences of irregular and disorderly 
behaviour : even of such rashness, wilfulness, neglects, as 
we scarce call vicious. Now it is natural to apprehend, that 
the bad consequences of irregularity will be greater, in pro- 
portion as the irregularity is so. And there is no compa- 
rison between these irregularities, and the greater instances of 
vice, or a dissolute profligate disregard to all religion; 
if there be any thing at all in religion. For consider what it 
is for creatures, moral agents, presumptuously to introduce 
that confusion and misery into the kingdom of God, which 
mankind have in fact introduced : to blaspheme the So- 
vereign Lord of all ; to contemn his authority; to be injurious, 
to the degree they are, to their fellow-creatures, the creatures 
of God. Add that the effects of vice in the present world 
are often extreme misery, irretrievable ruin, and even death : 
and upon putting all this together, it will appear, that as no 
one can say, in what degree fatal the unprevented con- 
sequences of vice may be, according to the general rule of 
divine government ; so it is by no means intuitively certain, 
how far these consequences could possibly, in the nature of 
the thing, be prevented, consistently with the eternal rule of 
right, or with what is, in fact, the moral constitution of na- 
ture. However, there would be large ground to hope, that 
the universal government was not so severely strict, but that 



chap. v. a Mediator and Redeemer. 197 



there was room for pardon, or for having those penal conse- 
quences prevented. Yet, 

IV. There seems no probability, that any thing we could 
do would alone and of itself prevent them : prevent their fol- 
lowing, or being inflicted. But one would think, at least, it 
were impossible that the contrary should be thought certain. 
For we are not acquainted with the whole of the case. We 
are not informed of all the reasons, which render it fit that 
future punishments should be inflicted : and therefore cannot 
know, whether any thing we could do would make such an 
alteration, as to render it fit that they should be remitted. 
We do not know what the whole natural or appointed conse- 
quences of vice are ; nor in what way they would follow, if 
not prevented : and therefore can in no sort say, whether we 
could do any thing which would be sufficient to prevent 
them. Our ignorance being thus manifest, let us recollect 
the analogy of Nature or Providence. For, though this may 
be but a slight ground to raise a positive opinion upon, in 
this matter; yet it is sufficient to answer a mere arbitrary 
assertion, without an}^ kind of evidence, urged by way 
of objection against a doctrine, the proof of which is 
not reason, but revelation. Consider then : people ruin their 
fortunes by extravagance ; they bring diseases upon them- 
selves by excess ; they incur the penalties of civil laws ; and 
surely civil government is natural ; will sorrow for these 
follies past, and behaving well for the future, alone and 
of itself prevent the natural consequences of them ? On the 
contrary, men's natural abilities of helping themselves are 
often impaired : or if not, yet they are forced to be beholden 
to the assistance of others, upon several accounts, and in dif- 
ferent ways ; assistance which they would have had no occa- 
sion for, had it not been for their misconduct ; but which, in 
the disadvantageous condition they had reduced themselves 
to, is absolutely necessary to their recovery, and retrieving 
their affairs. Now since this is our case, considering our- 
selves merely as inhabitants of this world, and as having a 
temporal interest here, under the natural government of 
God, which however has a great deal moral in it; why is it 
not supposable that this may be our case also, in our more 
important capacity, as under his perfect moral government, 
and having a more general and future interest depending? If 
we have misbehaved in this higher capacity, and rendered 
ourselves obnoxious to the future punishment, which God 



198 



The Appointment of 



PART 11. 



has annexed to vice : it is plainly credible, that behaving well 
for the time to come may be— not useless, God forbid — but 
wholly insufficient, alone and of itself, to prevent that 
punishment: or to put us in the condition, which we should 
have been in, had we preserved our innocence. 

And though we ought to reason with all reverence, when- 
ever we reason concerning the divine conduct : yet it may be 
added, that it is clearly contrary to all our notions of govern- 
ment, as well as to what is, in fact, the general constitution 
of nature, to suppose, that doing well for the future should, 
in all cases, prevent all the judicial bad consequences of 
having done evil, or all the punishment annexed to disobe- 
dience. And we have manifestly nothing from whence to 
determine, in what degree, and in what cases, reformation 
would prevent this punishment, even supposing that it would 
in some. And though the efficacy of repentance itself alone, 
to prevent what mankind had rendered themselves obnoxious 
to, and recover what they had forfeited, is now insisted upon, 
in opposition to Christianity; yet, by the general prevalence 
of propitiatory sacrifices over the heathen world, this notion 
of repentance alone being sufficient to expiate guilt, appears 
to be contrary to the general sense of mankind. 

Upon the whole then ; had the laws, the general laws of 
God's government been permitted to operate, without any in- 
terposition in our behalf, the future punishment, for ought 
we know to the contrary, or have any reason to think, must 
inevitably have followed, notwithstanding any thing we could 
have done to prevent it. Now, \ 

V. In this darkness, or this light of nature, call it which 
you please, revelation comes in ; confirms every doubting 
fear, which could enter into the heart of man, concerning the 
future unprevented consequence of wickedness ; supposes 
the world to be in a state of ruin (a supposition which seems 
the very ground of the Christian dispensation, and which, if 
not proveable by reason, yet is in no wise contrary to it); 
teaches us too, that the rules of divine government are such, as 
not to admit of pardon immediately and directly upon repen- 
tance, or by the sole efficacy of it : but then teaches at the 
same time, what nature might justly have hoped, that the 
moral government of the universe was not so rigid, but that 
there was room for an interposition, to avert the fatal conse- 
quences of vice ; which therefore, by this means, does admit 
of pardon. Revelation teaches us, that the unknown laws of 



CHAP. V. 



a Mediator and Redeemer. 



199 



God's more general government, no less than the particular 
laws by which we experience he governs us at present, are 
compassionate,* as well as good in the more general notion 
of goodness : and that he hath mercifully provided, that there 
should be an interposition to prevent the destruction of human 
kind; whatever that destruction unprevented would have 
been. God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth) not, to be sure, in a speculative, 
but in a practical sense, that whosoever believeth in him, should 
not perish :f gave his Son in the same way of goodness to 
the world, as he affords particular persons the friendly assist- 
ance of their fellow-creatures : when, without it, their tem- 
poral ruin would be the certain consequence of their follies : 
in the same way of goodness, I say; though in a transcendent 
and infinitely higher degree. And the Son of God loved us, 
and gave himself for us, with a love, which he himself com- 
pares to that of human friendship : though, in this case, all 
comparisons must fall infinitely short of the thing intended to 
be illustrated by them. He interposed in such a manner as 
was necessary and effectual to prevent that execution of jus- 
tice upon sinners, which God had appointed should otherwise 
have been executed upon them : or in such a manner, as to 
prevent that punishment from actually following, w T hich, ac- 
cording to the general laws of divine government, must have 
followed the sins of the world, had it not been for such inter- 
position. J 

* P. 195, &c. t John iii. 16. 

X It cannot, I suppose, be imagined, even by the most cursory reader, 
that it is, in any sort, affirmed or implied in any thing said in this chapter, 
that none can have the benefit of the general redemption, but such as have 
the advantage of being made acquainted with it in the present life. But 
it may be needful to mention, that several questions, which have, been 
brought into the subject before us, and determined, are not in the least 
entered into here: questions which have been, I fear, rashly determined, 
and perhaps with equal rashness contrary ways. For instance, whether 
God could have saved the world by other means than the death of 6hrist, 
consistently with the general laws of his government. And had not Christ 
come into the world, what would have been the future condition of the 
better sort of men ; those just persons over the face of the earth, for whom, 
Manasses in his prayer asserts, repentance was not appointed. The 
meaning of the first of these questions is greatly ambiguous : and neither 
of them can properly be answered, without going upon that infinitely absurd 
supposition, that we know the whole of the case. And perhaps the very 
inquiry, What would have followed, if God had not done as he has, may have 
in it some very great impropriety: and ought not to be carried on any 
further, than is necessary to help our partial and inadequate conceptions 
of things. 



200 



The Appointment of 



part n. 



If any thing here said should appear, upon first thought, 
inconsistent with divine goodness; a second, I am persuaded, 
will entirely remove that appearance. For were we to sup- 
pose the constitution of things to be such, as that the whole 
creation must have perished, had it not been for somewhat, 
which God had appointed should be, in order to prevent that 
ruin: even this supposition would not be inconsistent, in any 
degree, with the most absolutely perfect goodness. But still 
it may be thought, that this whole manner of treating the 
subject before us supposes mankind to be naturally in a very 
strange state. And truly so it does. But it is not Chris- 
tianity, which has put us into this state. Whoever will con- 
sider the manifold miseries, and the extreme wickedness of 
the world; that the best have great wrongnesses within them- 
selves, which they complain of, and endeavour to amend ; but 
that the generality grow more profligate and corrupt with 
age; that even moralists thought the present state to be a 
state of punishment: and, what might be added, that the 
earth our habitation has the appearances of being a ruin : who- 
ever, I say, will consider all these, and some other obvious 
things, will think he has little reason to object against the 
Scripture account, that mankind is in a state of degrada- 
tion; against this being the fact: how difficult soever he may 
think it to account for, or even to form a distinct conception 
of the occasions and circumstances of it. But that the 
crime of our first parents was the occasion of our being placed 
in a more disadvantageous condition, is a thing throughout 
and particularly analogous to what we see in the daily 
course of natural Providence; as the recovery of the world 
by the interposition of Christ has been shewn to be so in 
general. 

VI. The particular manner in which Christ interposed in 
the redemption of the world, or his office as Mediator, in the 
largest sense, between God and man, is thus represented to us 
in the Scripture. He is the light of the world;* the revealer 
of the will of God in the most eminent sense. He is a pro- 
pitiatory sacrifice;! the Lamb of God:\ and, as he voluntarily 
offered himself up, he is styled our High-Priest. § And, 
which seems of peculiar weight, he is described beforehand 

* John i. and viii. 12. 
t Rom. iii. 25. v. 11. 1 Cor. v. 7. Eph. v. 2. 1 John ii. 2. Mat. xxvi. 28. 
I John t. 29, 36. and throughout the Book of Revelation. 
§ Throughout the Epistle to the Hebrews. 



chap. v. a Mediator and Redeemer. 



201 



in the Old Testament, under the same characters of a priest, 
and an expiatory victim.* And whereas it is objected, that 
all this is merely by way of allusion to the sacrifices of the 
Mosaic law, the Apostle on the contrary affirms, that the 
law was a shadow of good things to come, and not the very 
image of the things:^ and that the priests that offer gifts ac- 
cording to the law — serve nnto the example and shadow of 
heavenly things, as Moses was admonished of God, when he 
was about to make the tabernacle. For see, saith he, that thou 
make all things according to the pattern shewed to thee in the 
mount ;J i. e. the Levitical priesthood was a shadow of the 
priesthood of Christ ; in like manner as the tabernacle made 
by Moses was according to that shewed him in the mount. 
The priesthood of Christ, and the tabernacle in the mount, 
were the originals : of the former of which the Levitical 
priesthood was a type; and of the latter the tabernacle made 
by Moses was a copy. The doctrine of this epistle then 
plainly is, that the legal sacrifices were allusions to the great 
and final atonement to be made by the blood of Christ; and 
not that this was an allusion to those. Nor can any thing 
be more express or determinate, than the following passage. 
It is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should 
take away sin. Wherefore when he comet h into the ivorld, he 
saith, Sacrifice and offering, i. e. of bulls and of goats, thou 
wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me — Lo, I come to 
do thy will, God — By which will we are sanctified, through 
the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for And 
to add one passage more of the like kind : Christ was once 
offered to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for 
him shall he appear the second time, without sin; i. e. without 
bearing sin, as he did at his first coming, by being an offer- 
ing for it ; without having our iniquities again laid upon him, 
without being any more a sin-offering : — unto them that look 
for him shall he appear the second time, without sin, unto sal- 
vation.^ Nor do the inspired writers at all confine them- 
selves to this manner of speaking concerning the satisfaction 
of Christ; but declare an efficacy in what he did and suffered 
for us, additional to and beyond mere instruction, example, 
and government, in great variety of expression : That Jesus 
should die for that nation, the Jews : and not for that nation 



* Isa. liii. Dan. ix. 24. Ps, ex. 4. f Heb. x. 1. 

I Heb. viii. 4, 5. § Heb. x. 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, || Heb. ix. 28, 



202 



The Appoint ment of 



PART II. 



only, but that also, plainly by the efficacy of his death, he 
should gather together in one the children of God that ivere 
scattered abroad ; # that he suffered for sins, the just for the 
unjust :\ that he gave his life, himself a ransom:^ that we 
are bought, bought with a price ;§ that he redeemed us with 
his blood: redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a 
curse for us:\ that he is our advocate, intercessor, and pro- 
pitiation :% that he was made perfect, or consummate, through 
sufferings; and being thus made perfect, he became the author 
of salvation:** that God was in Christ reconciling the world to 
himself; by the death of his Son, by the cross; not imputing 
their trespasses unto them :f \ and lastly, that through death he 
destroyed him that had thepoioer of death. ^ Christ then hav- 
ing thus humbled himself, and become obedient to death, even 
the death of the cross ; God also hath highly exalted him, and 
given him a name, which is above every name: hath given all 
things into his hands: hath committed all judgment unto him; 
that all men should honour the Son, even as then honour the 
Father.^ For, worthy is the Lamb that was slam, to receive 
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and 
glory, and blessing. And every creature which is in heaven, 
and on the earth, heard I, saying, Blessing, and honour, and 
glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, 
and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.\^ 

These passages of Scripture seem to comprehend and ex- 
press the chief parts of Christ's office, as Mediator between 
God and man, so far, I mean, as the nature of this his office 
is revealed ; and it is usually treated of by divines under three 
heads. 

First, He was, by way of eminence, the Prophet : that 
Prophet that should come into the world to declare the 
divine will. He published anew the law of nature, which men 
had corrupted ; and the very knowledge of which, to some 
degree, was lost among them. He taught mankind, taught 
us authoritatively, to live soberly, righteously, and godly in 

* John xi. 51, 52. t 1 Pet. iii. 18. 

\ Matt. xx. 28. Mark x. 45. 1 Tim. ii. 6. 
* 2 Pet. ii. 1 . Rev. xiv. 4. 1 Cor. vi. 20. 
|| 1 Pet.i. 19. Rev. v. 9. Gal. iii. 13. 11 Heb.vii. 25. 1 Johnii. 1, 2. 

** Heb. ii. 10. v. 9. ff 2 Cor. v. 19. Rom. v. 10. Eph. ii. 16. 

X\ Heb. ii. 14. See also a remarkable passage in the Book of Job, 
xxxiii. 24. Phil. ii. 8, 9. John iii. 35. v. 22, 23. 

HII Rev. v. 12, 13. HH John vi. 14. 



chap. v. a Mediator and Redeemer . 203 

this present world, in expectation of the future judgment of 
God. He confirmed the truth of this moral system of na- 
ture, and gave us additional evidence of it ; the evidence of 
testimony. # He distinctly revealed the manner, in which 
God would be worshipped, the efficacy of repentance, and 
the rewards and punishments of a future life. Thus he was 
a prophet in a sense in which no other ever was. To which 
is to be added, that he set us a perfect example, that ive should 
follow his steps. 

Secondly, He has a kingdom which is not of this world. 
He founded a Church, to be to mankind a standing memorial 
of religion, and invitation to it ; which he promised to be with 
always even to the end. He exercises an invisible govern- 
ment over it, himself, and by his Spirit : over that part of it, 
which is militant here on earth, a government of discipline, 
for the perfecting of the saints, for the edifying his body : till 
we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of 
the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the 
stature of the fulness of Christ.^ Of this Church, all per- 
sons scattered over the world, who live in obedience to his 
laws, are members. For these he is gone to prepare a place, 
and will come again to receive them unto himself, that where 
he is, there they may he also; and reign with him for ever and 
ever :\ and likewise to take vengeance on them that know not 
God, and obey not his Gospel. § 

Against these parts of Christ's office I find no objec- 
tions, but what are fully obviated in the beginning of this 
Chapter. 

Lastly, Christ offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice, and 
made atonement for the sins of the world : which is men- 
tioned last, in regard to what is objected against it. Sacri- 
fices of expiation were commanded the Jews, and obtained 
amongst most other nations, from tradition, whose original 
probably was revelation. And they were continually re- 
peated, both occasionally, and at the returns of stated times : 
and made up great part of the external religion of mankind. 
But now once in the end of the world Christ appeared to put 
away sin by the sacrifice of himself And this sacrifice was, 
in the highest degree and with the most extensive influence, 
of that efficacy for obtaining pardon of sin, which the hea- 

* P. 157, &c. t Eph. iv. 12, 13. 

X John xiv.2, 3. Rev. iii. 21. and xi. 15. § 2 Thess. i. 8. 

|| Heb.ix.26. 



204 The Appointment of part n. 

thens may be supposed to have thought their sacrifices to 
have been, and which the Jewish sacrifices really were in 
some degree, and with regard to some persons. 

How and in what particular way it had this efficacy, there 
are not wanting persons who have endeavoured to explain : 
but I do not find that the Scripture has explained it. We 
seem to be very much in the dark concerning the manner 
in which the ancients understood atonement to be made, 
i. e. pardon to be obtained by sacrifices. And if the Scrip- 
ture has, as surely it has, left this matter of the satisfac- 
tion of Christ mysterious, left somewhat in it unrevealed, 
all conjectures about it must be, if not evidently absurd, 
yet at least uncertain. Nor has any one reason to com- 
plain for w r ant of farther information, unless he can shew his 
claim to it. 

Some have endeavoured to explain the efhcacy of what 
Christ has done and suffered for us, beyond what the Scrip- 
ture has authorized : others, probably because they could not 
explain it, have been for taking it away, and confining his 
office as Redeemer of the world to his instruction, example, 
and government of the church. Whereas the doctrine of the 
Gospel appears to be, not only that he taught the efficacy of 
repentance, but rendered it of the efficacy which it is, by 
what he did and suffered for us : that he obtained for us the 
benefit of having our repentance accepted unto eternal life : 
not only that he revealed to sinners, that they were in a 
capacity of salvation, and how they might obtain it ; but 
moreover that he put them into this capacity of salvation, 
by what he did and suffered for them ; put us into a capacity 
of escaping future punishment, and obtaining future happi- 
ness. And it is our wisdom thankfully to accept the benefit, 
by performing the conditions, upon which it is offered, on our 
part, without disputing how it was procured on his. For, 

VII. Since we neither know by what means punishment 
in a future state would have followed wickedness in this ; 
nor in what manner it would have been inflicted, had it not 
been prevented ; nor all the reasons why its infliction would 
have been needful ? nor the particular nature of that state of 
happiness, which Christ is gone to prepare for his disciples : 
and since we are ignorant how far any thing which we could 
do, would, alone and of itself, have been effectual to prevent 
that punishment, to which we were obnoxious, and recover 
that happiness, which we had forfeited ; it is most evident 



chap. v. a Mediator and Redeemer. 



205 



we are not judges, antecedently to revelation, whether a 
mediator was or was not necessary, to obtain those ends : to 
prevent that future punishment, and bring mankind to the 
final happiness of their nature. And for the very same rea- 
sons, upon supposition of the necessity of a mediator, we are 
no more judges, antecedently to revelation, of the whole na- 
ture of his office, or the several parts of which it consists ; of 
what was fit and requisite to be assigned him, in order to 
accomplish the ends of divine Providence in the appoint- 
ment. And from hence it follows, that to object against the 
expediency or usefulness of particular things, revealed to 
have been done or suffered by him, because we do not see 
how they were conducive to those ends, is highly absurd. 
Yet nothing is more common to be met with, than this ab- 
surdity. But if it be acknowledged beforehand, that we are 
not judges in the case, it is evident that no objection can, 
with any shadow of reason, be urged against any particular 
part of Christ's mediatorial office revealed in Scripture, till it 
can be shewn positively not to be requisite or conducive to 
the ends proposed to be accomplished ; or that it is in itself 
unreasonable. 

And there is one objection made against the satisfaction of 
Christ, which looks to be of this positive kind : that the doc- 
trine of his being appointed to suffer for the sins of the world, 
represents God as being indifferent whether he punished the 
innocent or the guilty. Now from the foregoing observa- 
tions we may see the extreme slightness of all such objections; 
and (though it is most certain all who make them do not see 
the consequence) that they conclude altogether as much 
against God's whole original constitution of nature, and the 
whole daily course of divine Providence in the government 
of the world, i. e. against the whole scheme of Theism and 
the whole notion of Religion, as against Christianity. For 
the world is a constitution or system, whose parts have a 
mutual reference to each other : and there is a scheme of 
things gradually carrying on, called the course of nature, to 
the carrying on of which God has appointed us, in various 
ways, to contribute. And when, in the daily course of na- 
tural providence, it is appointed that innocent people should 
suffer for the faults of the guilty, this is liable to the very 
same objection, as the instance we are now considering. 
The infinitely greater importance of that appointment of 
Christianity, which is objected against, does not hinder but 



206 



The Appoint mod of 



part n. 



it may be, as it plainly is, an appointment of the very same 
kind, with what the world affords us daily examples of. Nay, 
if there were any force at all in the objection, it would be 
stronger, in one respect, against natural providence, than 
against Christianity : because under the former we are in 
many cases commanded, and even necessitated whether we 
will or no, to suffer for the faults of others ; whereas the 
sufferings of Christ were voluntary. The world's being under 
the righteous government of God does indeed imply, that 
finally and upon the whole every one shall receive according 
to his personal deserts: and the general doctrine of the whole 
Scripture is, that this shall be the completion of the divine 
government. But during the progress, and, for ought we 
know, even in order to the completion of this moral scheme, 
vicarious punishments may be fit, and absolutely necessary. 
Men by their follies run themselves into extreme distress ; 
into difficulties which would be absolutely fatal to them, were 
it not for the interposition and assistance of others. God 
commands by the law of nature, that we afford them this 
assistance, in many cases where we cannot do it without very 
great pains, and labour, and sufferings to ourselves. And 
we see in what variety of ways one person's sufferings con- 
tribute to the relief of another : and how, or by what parti- 
cular means, this comes to pass, or follows, from the consti- 
tution and laws of nature, which came under our notice : and, 
being familiarized to it, men are not shocked with it. So 
that the reason of their insisting upon objections of the fore- 
going kind against the satisfaction of Christ is, either that 
they do not consider God's settled and uniform appointments 
as his appointments at all ; or else they forget that vicarious 
punishment is a providential appointment of every day's 
experience : and then, from their being unacquainted with 
the more general laws of nature or divine government over 
the world, and not seeing how the sufferings of Christ could 
contribute to the redemption of it, unless by arbitrary and 
tyrannical will ; they conclude his sufferings could not con- 
tribute to it any other way. And yet, what has been often 
alleged in justification of this doctrine, even from the appa- 
rent natural tendency of this method of our redemption ; its 
tendency to vindicate the authority of God's laws, and deter 
his creatures from sin ; this has never yet been answered, and 
is I think plainly unanswerable: though I am far from think- 
ing it an account of the whole of the case. But without 



chap. v. a Mediator and Redeemer. 207 

! taking this into consideration, it abundantly appears, from 
r, the observations above made, that this objection is, not an 
i objection against Christianity, but against the whole general 
i constitution of nature. And if it were to be considered as an 
I objection against Christianity, or considering it as it is, an 
objection against the constitution of nature ; it amounts to 
no more in conclusion than this, that a divine appointment 
cannot be necessary or expedient, because the objector does 
not discern it to be so : though he must own that the nature 
of the case is such, as renders him incapable of judging, 
whether it be so or not; or of seeing it to be necessary, though 
it were so. 

It is indeed a matter of great patience to reasonable men, 
to find people arguing in this manner : objecting against 
the credibility of such particular things revealed in Scrip- 
ture, that they do not see the necessity or expediency of 
them. For though it is highly right, and the most pious 
exercise of our understanding, to inquire with due reverence 
into the ends and reasons of God's dispensation : yet when 
those reasons are concealed, to argue from our ignorance, 
that such dispensations cannot be from God, is infinitely 
absurd. The presumption of this kind of objections seems 
almost lost in the folly of them. And the folly of them is 
yet greater, when they are urged, as usually they are, against 
things in Christianity analogous or like to those natural dis- 
pensations of Providence, which are matter of experience. 
Let reason be kept to : and if any part of the Scripture 
account of the redemption of the world by Christ can be 
shewn to be really contrary to it, let the Scripture, in the 
name of God, be given up : but let not such poor creatures 
as we go on objecting against an infinite scheme, that we do* 
not see the necessity or usefulness of all its parts, and call 
this reasoning ; and, which still farther heightens the ab- 
surdity in the present case, parts which we are not actively 
concerned in. For it may be worth mentioning, 

Lastly, That not only the reason of the thing, but the 
whole analogy of nature, should teach us, not to expect to 
have the like information concerning the divine conduct, as 
concerning our own duty. God instructs us by experience 
(for it is not reason, but experience which instructs us), what 
good or bad consequences will follow from our acting in 
such and such manners : and by this he directs us, how we 
are to behave ourselves. But, though we are sufficiently 



208 



Revelation not universal: 



PART II. 



instructed for the common purposes of life : yet it is but an 
almost infinitely small part of natural providence, which we 
are at all let into. The case is the same with regard to 
revelation. The doctrine of a mediator between God and 
man, against which it is objected, that the expediency of 
some things in it" is not understood, relates only to what was 
done on God's part in the appointment, and on the Medi- 
ator's in the execution of it. For what is required of us, in 
consequence of this gracious dispensation, is another subject, 
in which none can complain for want of information. The 
constitution of the world, and God's natural government over 
it, is all mystery, as much as the Christian dispensation. 
Yet under the first he has given men all things pertaining to 
life ; and under the other, all things pertaining unto godli- 
ness. And it may be added, that there is nothing hard to 
be accounted for in any of the common precepts of Chris- 
tianity : though if there were, surely, a divine command is 
abundantly sufficient to lay us under the strongest obligations 
to obedience. But the fact is, that the reasons of all the 
Christian precepts are evident. Positive institutions are 
manifestly necessary to keep up and propagate religion 
amongst mankind. And our duty to Christ, the internal 
and external worship of him ; this part of the religion of the 
Gospel manifestly arises out of what he has done and suf- 
fered, his authority and dominion, and the relation which 
he is revealed to stand in to us. # 

CHAP. VI. 

Of the Want of Universality in Revelation : and of the 
supposed Deficiency in the Proof of it. 

It has been thought by some persons, that if the evidence of 
revelation appears doubtful, this itself turns into a positive 
argument against it : because it cannot be supposed, that, if 
it were true, it would be left to subsist upon doubtful evi- 
dence. And the objection against revelation from its not 
being universal is often insisted upon as of great weight. 

Now the weakness of these opinions may be shewn, by 
observing the suppositions on which they are founded : 
which are really such as these ; that it cannot be thought 
God would have bestowed any favour at all upon us, unless 

* P. 161, &c. 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 209 

in the degree, which, we think, he might, and which, we imagine, 
would be most to our particular advantage; and also that it can- 
not be thought he would bestow a favour upon any, unless he 
bestowed the same upon all : suppositions, which we find con- 
tradicted, not by a few instances in God's natural government 
of the world, but by the general analogy of nature together. 

Persons who speak of the evidence of religion as doubtful, 
and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive argument 
against it, should be put upon considering, what that evi- 
dence indeed is, which they act upon with regard to their 
temporal interests. For, it is not only extremely difficult, 
but in many cases absolutely impossible, to balance pleasure 
and pain, satisfaction and uneasiness, so as to be able to say 
on which side the overplus is. There are the like difficulties 
and impossibilities in making the due allowances for a 
change of temper and taste, for satiety, disgusts, ill health : 
any of which render men incapable of enjoying, after they 
have obtained what they most eagerly desired. Numberless 
too are the accidents, besides that one of untimely death, 
which may even probably disappoint the best concerted 
schemes : and strong objections are often seen to lie against 
them, not to be removed or answered, but which seem over- 
balanced by reasons on the other side ; so as that the certain 
difficulties and dangers of the pursuit are, by every one, 
thought justly disregarded, upon account of the appearing 
greater advantages in case of success, though there be but 
little probability of it. Lastly, every one observes our liable- 
ness, if we be not upon our guard, to be deceived by the 
falsehood of men, and the false appearances of things : and 
this danger must be greatly increased, if there be a strong 
bias within, suppose from indulged passion, to favour the 
deceit. Hence arises that great uncertainty and doubtful- 
ness of proof, "wherein our temporal interest really consists; 
what are the most probable means of attaining it ; and whe- 
ther those means will eventually be successful. And num- 
berless instances there are, in the daily course of life, in 
which all men think it reasonable to engage in pursuits, 
though the probability is greatly against succeeding; and 
to make such provision for themselves, as it is supposable 
they may have occasion for, though the plain acknowledged 
probability is, that they never shall. Then those who think 
the objection against revelation, from its light not being uni- 
versal, to be of weight, should observe, that the Author of 

o 



210 



Revelation not universal: 



PART IT. 



-Nature, in numberless instances, bestows that upon some, 
which he does not upon others, who seem equally to stand in 
need of it. Indeed he appears to bestow all his gifts with 
the most promiscuous variety among creatures of the same 
species : health and strength, capacities of prudence and of 
knowledge, means of improvement, riches, and all external 
advantages. And as there are not any two men found, of ex- 
actly like shape and features ; so it is probable there are not 
any two, of an exactly like constitution, temper, and situation, 
with regard to the goods and evils of life. Yet, notwithstanding 
these uncertainties and varieties, God does exercise a natural 
government over the world : and there is such a thing as a 
prudent and imprudent institution of life, with regard to our 
health and our affairs, under that his natural government. 

As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation have been 
universal ; and as they have been afforded to a greater or 
less part of the world, at different times ; so likewise at dif- 
ferent times, both revelations have had different degrees of 
evidence. The Jews who lived during the succession of 
prophets, that is, from Moses till after the Captivity, had 
higher evidence of the truth of their religion, than those had, 
who lived in the interval between the last-mentioned period, 
and the coming of Christ. And the first Christians had 
higher evidence of the miracles wrought in attestation of 
Christianity, than what we have now. They had also a 
strong presumptive proof of the truth of it, perhaps of much 
greater force, in way of argument, than many think, of which 
we have very little remaining ; I mean the presumptive 
proof of its truth, from the influence which it had upon the 
lives of the generality of its professors. And we, or future 
ages, may possibly have a proof of it, which they could not 
have, from the conformity between the prophetic history, and 
the state of the world and of Christianity. And farther : if 
we were to suppose the evidence, which some have of reli- 
gion, to amount to little more than seeing that it may be 
true ; but that they remain in great doubts and uncertainties 
about both its evidence and its nature, and great perplexities 
concerning the rule of life : others to have a full conviction 
of the truth of religion, with a distinct knowledge of their 
duty ; and others severally to have all the intermediate de- 
grees of religious light and evidence, which lie between these 
two — if we put the case, that for the present, it was intended, 
revelation should be no more than a small light, in the midst 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 211 

of a world greatly overspread, notwithstanding it, with igno- 
rance and darkness : that certain glimmerings of this light 
should extend, and be directed, to remote distances, in such 
a manner as that those who really partook of it should not 
discern from whence it originally came : that some in a nearer 
situation to it should have its light obscured, and, in diffe- 
rent ways and degrees, intercepted : and that others should 
be placed within its clearer influence, and be much more en- 
livened, cheered, and directed by it ; but yet that even to 
these it should be no more than a light shining in a dark 
place : all this would be perfectly uniform, and of a piece 
with the conduct of Providence, in the distribution of its 
other blessings. If the fact of the case really were, that some 
have received no light at all from the Scripture ; as many 
ages and countries in the heathen world : that others, though 
they have, by means of it, had essential or natural religion 
enforced upon their consciences, yet have never had the ge- 
nuine Scripture-revelation, with its real evidence, proposed 
to their consideration ; and the ancient Persians and modern 
Mahometans may possibly be instances of people in a situ- 
ation somewhat like to this : that others, though they have 
had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revelation, 
yet have had it with the system and evidence of Christianity 
so interpolated, the system so corrupted, the evidence so 
blended with false miracles, as to leave the mind in the ut- 
most doubtfulness and uncertainty about the whole ; which 
may be the state of some thoughtful men, in most of those 
nations who call themselves Christian : and lastly, that others 
have had Christianity offered to them in its genuine simpli- 
city, and with its proper evidence, as persons in countries 
and churches of civil and of Christian liberty ; but however 
that even these persons are left in great ignorance in many 
respects, and have by no means light afforded them enough 
to satisfy their curiosity, but only to regulate their life, to 
teach them their duty, and encourage them in the careful 
discharge of it : I say, if we were to suppose this somewhat 
of a general true account of the degrees of moral and reli- 
gious light and evidence, which were intended to be afforded 
mankind, and of what has actually been and is their situation, 
in their moral and religious capacity ; there would be no- 
thing in all this ignorance, doubtfulness, and uncertainty, in 
all these varieties, and supposed disadvantages of some in 
comparison of others, respecting religion, but may be pa- 

o 2 



212 



Revelation not universal : 



PART II. 



ralleled by manifest analogies in the natural dispensations of 
Providence at present, and considering ourselves merely in 
our temporal capacity. 

Nor is there any thing shocking in all this, or which would 
seem to bear hard upon the moral administration in nature, 
if we would really keep in mind, that every one shall be dealt 
equitably with : instead of forgetting this, or explaining it 
away, after it is acknowledged in words. All shadow of in- 
justice, and indeed all harsh appearances, in this various 
economy of Providence, would be lost ; if we would keep in 
mind, that every merciful allowance shall be made, and no 
more be required of any one, than what might have been 
equitably expected of him, from the circumstances in which 
he was placed ; and not what might have been expected, 
had he been placed in other circumstances : /. e. in Scrip- 
ture language, that every man shall be accepted according 
to what he had, not according to what he had not* This 
however doth not by any means imply, that all persons' con- 
dition here is equally advantageous with respect to futurity. 
And Providence's designing to place some in greater dark- 
ness with respect to religious knowledge, is no more a reason 
why they should not endeavour to get out of that darkness, 
and others to bring them out of it ; than why ignorant and 
slow people in matters of other knowledge should not endea- 
vour to learn, or should not be instructed. 

It is not unreasonable to suppose, that the same wise and 
good principle, whatever it was, which disposed the Author 
of Nature to make different kinds and orders of creatures, 
disposed him also to place creatures of like kinds in different 
situations : and that the same principle which disposed him 
to make creatures of different moral capacities, disposed him 
also to place creatures of like moral capacities in different 
religious situations ; and even the same creatures, in diffe- 
rent periods of their being. And the account or reason of 
this is also most probably the account why the constitution 
of things is such, as that creatures of moral natures or capa- 
cities, for a considerable part of that duration in which they 
are living agents, are not at all subjects of morality and reli- 
gion ; but grow up to be so, and grow up to be so more and 
more, gradually from childhood to mature age. 

What, in particular, is the account or reason of these 
things, we must be greatly in the dark, were it only that we 

* 2 Cor. viii. 12. 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 213 

know so very little even of our own case. Our present state 
may possibly be the consequence of somewhat past, which 
we are wholly ignorant of : as it has a reference to somewhat 
to come, of which we know scarce any more than is neces- 
sary for practice. A system or constitution, in its notion, 
implies variety,; and so complicated a one as this world, very 
great variety. So that were revelation universal, yet, from 
men's different capacities of understanding, from the diffe- 
rent lengths of their lives, their different educations and other 
external circumstances, and from their difference of temper 
and bodily constitution ; their religious situations would be 
widely different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison 
of others, perhaps, altogether as much as at present. And 
the true account, whatever it be, why mankind, or such a 
part of mankind, are placed in this condition of ignorance, 
must be supposed also the true account of our farther igno- 
rance, in not knowing the reasons why, or whence it is, that 
they are placed in this condition. But the following prac- 
tical reflections may deserve the serious consideration of those 
persons, who think the circumstances of mankind or their 
own, in the forementioned respects, a ground of complaint. 

First, The evidence of religion not appearing obvious, 
may constitute one particular part of some men's trial in the 
religious sense : as it gives scope, for a virtuous exercise, or 
vicious neglect of their understanding, in examining or not 
examining into that evidence. There seems no possible rea- 
son to be given, why we may not be in a state of moral pro- 
bation, with regard to the exercise of our understanding upon 
the subject of religion, as we are with regard to our beha- 
viour in common affairs. The former is as much a thing 
within our power and choice as the latter. And I suppose 
it is to be laid down for certain, that the same character, the 
same inward principle, which, after a man is convinced of 
the truth of religion, renders him obedient to the precepts of 
it, would, were he not thus convinced, set him about an exa- 
mination of it, upon its system and evidence being offered to 
his thoughts : and that in the latter state his examination 
would be with an impartiality, seriousness, and solicitude, 
proportionable to what his obedience is in the former. And 
as inattention, negligence, want of all serious concern, about 
a matter of such a nature and such importance, when offered 
to men's consideration, is, before a distinct conviction of its 
truth, as real immoral depravity and dissoluteness ; as neg- 



214 



Revelation not universal: 



PART II. 



lect of religious practice after such conviction : so active soli- 
citude about it, and fair impartial consideration of its evi- 
dence before such conviction, is as really an exercise of a 
morally right temper ; as is religious practice after. Thus, 
that religion is not intuitively true, but a matter of deduction 
and inference ; that a conviction of its truth is not forced 
upon every one, but left to be, by some, collected with heed- 
ful attention to premises ; this as much constitutes religious 
probation, as much affords sphere, scope, opportunity, for 
right and wrong behaviour, as any thing whatever does. 
And their manner of treating this subject, when laid before 
them, shews what is in their heart, and is an exertion of it. 

Secondly, It appears to be a thing as evident, though it is 
not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration of reli- 
gion, the evidence of it should seem to any persons doubtful, 
in the highest supposable degree ; even this doubtful evi- 
dence will, however, put them into a general state of 'probation 
in the moral and religious sense. For, suppose a man to be 
really in doubt, whether such a person had not done him the 
greatest favour ; or, whether his whole temporal interest did 
not depend upon that person : no one, who had any sense of 
gratitude and of prudence, could possibly consider himself in 
the same situation, with regard to such person, as if he had 
no such doubt. In truth, it is as just to say, that certainty 
and doubt are the same ; as to say, the situations now men- 
tioned would leave a man as entirely at liberty in point of 
gratitude or prudence, as he would be, were he certain he 
had received no favour from such person, or that he no way 
depended upon him. And thus, though the evidence of reli- 
gion which is afforded to some men should belittle more than 
they are given to see, the system of Christianity, or religion 
in general, to be supposable and credible ; this ought in all 
reason to beget a serious practical apprehension, that it may 
be true. And even this will afford matter of exercise for 
religious suspense and deliberation, for moral resolution and 
self-government; because the apprehension that religion may 
be true does as really lay men under obligations, as a full con- 
viction that it is true. It gives occasion and motives to con- 
sider farther the important subject ; to preserve attentively 
upon their minds a general implicit sense that they may be 
under divine moral government, an awful solicitude about 
religion, whether natural or revealed. Such apprehension 
ought to turn men's eyes to every degree of new light which 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 215 

may be had, from whatever side it comes ; and induce them 
to refrain, in the mean time, from all immoralities, and live 
in the conscientious practice of every common virtue. Espe- 
cially are they bound to keep at the greatest distance from 
all dissolute profaneness ; for this the very nature of the case 
forbids ; and to treat with highest reverence a matter, upon 
which their own whole interest and being, and the fate of 
nature, depends. This behaviour, and an active endeavour 
to maintain within themselves this temper, is the business, 
the duty, and the wisdom of those persons, who complain of 
the doubtfulness of religion : is what they are under the most 
proper obligations to. And such behaviour is an exertion of, 
and has a tendency to improve in them, that character, which 
the practice of all the several duties of religion, from a full 
conviction of its truth, is an exertion of, and has a tendency 
to improve in others : others, I say, to whom God has afforded 
such conviction. Nay, considering the infinite importance 
of religion, revealed as well as natural, I think it may be said 
in general, that whoever will weigh the matter thoroughly 
may see, there is not near so much difference, as is commonly 
imagined, between what ought in reason to be the rule of 
life, to those persons who are fully convinced of its truth, and 
to those who have only a serious doubting apprehension, that 
it may be true. Their hopes, and fears, and obligations, 
will be in various degrees : but, as the subject-matter of their 
hopes and fears is the same ; so the subject-matter of their 
obligations, what they are bound to do and to refrain from, 
is not so very unlike. 

It is to be observed farther, that, from a character of under- 
standing, or a situation of influence in the world, some per- 
sons have it in their power to do infinitely more harm or 
good, by setting an example of profaneness and avowed dis- 
regard to all religion, or, on the contrary, of a serious, though 
perhaps doubting, apprehension of its truth, and of a reve- 
rend regard to it under this doubtfulness ; than they can do, 
by acting well or ill in all the common intercourses amongst 
mankind. And consequently they are most highly account- 
able for a behaviour, which, they may easily foresee, is of 
such importance, and in which there is most plainly a right 
and a wrong ; even admitting the evidence of religion to be 
as doubtful as is pretended. 

The ground of these observations, and that which renders 
them just and true, is, that doubting necessarily implies some 



216 Religion not universal: part ir. 

degree of evidence for that, of which we doubt. For no per- 
son would be in doubt concerning the truth of a number of 
facts so and so circumstanced, which should accidentally 
come into his thoughts, and of which he had no evidence at 
all. And though in the case of an even chance, and where 
consequently we were in doubt, we should in common lan- 
guage say, that we had no evidence at all for either side ; 
yet that situation of things, which renders it an even chance 
and no more, that such an event will happen, renders this 
case equivalent to all others, where there is such evidence 
on both sides of a question,* as leaves the mind in doubt 
concerning the truth. Indeed in all these cases, there is no 
more evidence on one side than on the other ; but there is 
(what is equivalent to) much more for either, than for the 
truth of a number of facts, which come into one's thoughts at 
random. And thus, in all these cases, doubt as much pre- 
supposes evidence, lower degrees of evidence, as belief pre- 
supposes higher, and certainty higher still. Any one, who 
will a little attend to the nature of evidence, will easily carry 
this observation on, and see, that between no evidence at all, 
and that degree of it which affords ground of doubt, there 
are as many intermediate degrees, as there are, between 
that degree which is the ground of doubt, and demonstra- 
tion. And though we have not faculties to distinguish these 
degrees of evidence with any sort of exactness ; yet, in pro- 
portion as they are discerned, they ought to influence our 
practice. For it is as real an imperfection in the moral cha- 
racter, not to be influenced in practice by a lower degree of 
evidence when discerned, as it is in the understanding, not 
to discern it. And as, in all subjects which men consider, 
they discern the lower as well as higher degrees of evidence, 
proportionably to their capacity of understanding ; so, in 
practical subjects, they are influenced in practice, by the 
lower as well as higher degrees of it, proportionably to their 
fairness and honesty. And as, in proportion to defects in the 
understanding, men are unapt to see lower degrees of evi- 
dence, are in danger of overlooking evidence, when it is not 
glaring, and are easily imposed upon in such cases ; so, in 
proportion to the corruption of the heart, they seem capable 
of satisfying themselves with having no regard in practice to 
evidence acknowledged real, if it be not overbearing. From 
these things it must follow, that doubting concerning religion 

* Introduction. 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof, 217 

implies such a degree of evidence for it, as, joined with the 
consideration of its importance, unquestionably lays men 
under the obligations before mentioned, to have a dutiful 
regard to it in all their behaviour. 

Thirdly, The difficulties in which the evidence of religion 
is involved, which some complain of, is no more a just 
ground of complaint, than the external circumstances of 
temptation, which others are placed in; or than difficulties 
in the practice of it, after a full conviction of its truth. 
Temptations render our state a more improving state of dis- 
cipline,* than it would be otherwise : as they give occasion 
for a more attentive exercise of the virtuous principle, which 
confirms and strengthens it more, than an easier or less atten- 
tive exercise of it could. Now speculative difficulties are, 
in this respect, of the very same nature with these external 
temptations. For the evidence of religion not appearing 
obvious, is to some persons a temptation to reject it, without 
any consideration at all; and therefore requires such an 
attentive exercise of the virtuous principle, seriously to con- 
sider that evidence, as there would be no occasion for, but 
for such temptation. And the supposed doubtfulness of its 
evidence, after it has been in some sort considered, affords 
opportunity to an unfair mind of explaining away, and de- 
ceitfully hiding from itself, that evidence which it might 
see; and also for men's encouraging themselves in vice, from 
hopes of impunity, though they do clearly see thus much at 
least, that these hopes are uncertain : in like manner as the 
common temptation to many instances of folly, which end 
in temporal infamy and ruin, is the ground for hope of not 
being detected, and of escaping with impunity ; i. e. the 
doubtfulness of the proof beforehand, that such foolish beha- 
viour will thus end in infamy and ruin. On the contrary, 
supposed doubtfulness in the evidence of religion calls for a 
more careful and attentive exercise of the virtuous principle, 
in fairly yielding themselves up to the proper influence of 
any real evidence, though doubtful; and in practising con- 
scientiously all virtue, though under some uncertainty, whe- 
ther the government in the universe may not possibly be 
such, as that vice may escape with impunity. And in gene- 
ral, temptation, meaning by this word the lesser allurements 
to wrong and difficulties in the discharge of our duty, as 
well as the greater ones; temptation, { say, as such and of 
* Part I. Chap. v. 



218 



Revelation not universal: 



PART II. 



every kind and degree, as it calls forth some virtuous efforts, 
additional to what would otherwise have been wanting, can- 
not but be an additional discipline and improvement of virtue, 
as well as probation of it in the other senses of that word.* 
So that the very same account is to be given, why the evi- 
dence of religion should be left in such a manner, as to 
require, in some, an attentive, solicitous, perhaps painful 
exercise of their understanding about it; as why others 
should be placed in such circumstances, as that the practice 
of its common duties, after a full conviction of the truth of 
it, should require attention, solicitude, and pains: or, why 
appearing doubtfulness should be permitted to afford matter 
of temptation to some; as why external difficulties and 
allurements should be permitted to afford matter of tempta- 
tion to others. The same account also is to be given, why 
some should be exercised with temptations of both these 
kinds; as why others should be exercised with the latter in 
such very high degrees, as some have been, particularly as 
the primitive Christians were. 

Nor does there appear any absurdity in supposing, that 
the speculative difficulties, in which the evidence of religion 
is involved, may make even the principal part of some per- 
sons' trial. For as the chief temptations of the generality 
of the world are the ordinary motives to injustice or unre- 
strained pleasure; or to live in the neglect of religion from 
that frame of mind, which renders many persons almost 
without feeling as to any thing distant, or which is not the 
object of their senses: so there are other persons without 
this shallowness of temper, persons of a deeper sense as to 
what is invisible and future ; who not only see, but have a 
general practical feeling, that what is to come will be pre- 
sent, and that things are not less real for their not being the 
objects of sense; and who, from their natural constitution 
of body and of temper, and from their external condition, 
may have small temptations to behave ill, small difficulty in 
behaving well, in the common course of life. Now when 
these latter persons have a distinct full conviction of the 
truth of religion, without any possible doubts or difficulties, 
the practice of it is to them unavoidable, unless they will do 
a constant violence to their own minds; and religion is 
scarce any more a discipline to them, than it is to creatures 
in a state of perfection. Yet these persons may possibly 
* Part I. Chap. iv. and p. 127, 128. 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 219 

stand in need of moral discipline and exercise in a higher 
degree, than they would have by such an easy practice of 
religion. Or it may be requisite, for reasons unknown to 
us, that they should give some farther manifestation* what 
is their moral character, to the creation of God, than such a 
practice of it would be. Thus in the great variety of reli- 
gious situations in which men are placed, what constitutes, 
what chiefly and peculiarly constitutes, the probation, in all 
senses, of some persons, may be the difficulties in which the 
evidence of religion is involved: and their principal and 
distinguished trial may be, how they will behave under and 
with respect to these difficulties. Circumstances in men's 
situation in their temporal capacity, analogous in good mea- 
sure to this respecting religion, are to be observed. We 
find some persons are placed in such a situation in the 
world, as that their chief difficulty with regard to conduct, 
is not the doing what is prudent when it is known; for this, 
in numberless cases, is as easy as the contrary : but to some 
the principal exercise is, recollection and being upon their 
guard against deceits, the deceits suppose of those about 
them; against false appearances of reason and prudence. To 
persons in some situations, the principal exercise with respect 
to conduct is, attention in order to inform themselves what is 
proper, what is really the reasonable and prudent part to act. 

But as I have hitherto gone upon supposition, that men's dis- 
satisfaction with the evidence of religion is not owing to their 
neglects or prejudices ; it must be added, on the other hand, in 
all common reason, and as what the truth of the case plainly 
requires should be added, that such dissatisfaction possibly 
may be owing to those, possibly may be men's own fault. For, 

If there are any persons, who never set themselves hear- 
tily and in earnest to be informed in religion; if there are 
any, who secretly wish it may not prove true; and are less 
attentive to evidence than to difficulties, and more to objec- 
tions than to what is said in answer to them : these persons 
will scarce be thought in a likely way of seeing the evidence 
of religion, though it were most certainly true, and capable 
of being ever so fully proved. If any accustom themselves 
to consider this subject usually in the way of mirth and 
sport: if they attend to forms and representations, and in- 
adequate manners of expression, instead of the real things 
intended by them : (for signs often can be no more than in- 

* P. 127, 128. 



220 



Revelation not universal: 



PART II. 



adequately expressive of the things signified:) or if they 
substitute human errors in the room of divine truth; why 
may not all, or any of these things, hinder some men from 
seeing that evidence, which really is seen by others; as a 
like turn of mind, with respect to matters of common specu- 
lation and practice, does, we find by experience, hinder them 
from attaining that knowledge and right understanding, in 
matters of common speculation and practice, which more 
fair and attentive minds attain to? And the effect will be 
the same, whether their neglect of seriously considering the 
evidence of religion, and their indirect behaviour with regard 
to it, proceed from mere carelessness, or from the grosser 
vices ; or whether it be owing to this, that forms and figura- 
tive manners of expression, as well as errors, administer oc- 
casions of ridicule, when the things intended, and the truth 
itself, would not. Men may indulge a ludicrous turn so far 
as to lose all sense of conduct and prudence in worldly 
affairs, and even, as it seems, to impair their faculty of rea- 
son. And in general, levity, carelessness, passion, and pre- 
judice, do hinder us from being rightly informed, with respect 
to common things: and they may, in like manner, and per- 
haps in some farther providential manner, with respect to 
moral and religious subjects: may hinder evidence from 
being laid before us, and from being seen when it is. The 
Scripture* does declare, that every one shall not understand. 
And it makes no difference, by what providential conduct 
this comes to pass: whether the evidence of Christianity 
was, originally and with design, put and left so, as that 
those who are desirous of evading moral obligations should 
not see it; and that honest-minded persons should: or, 
whether it comes to pass by any other means. 

Farther : The general proof of natural religion and of 
Christianity does, I think, lie level to common men; even 
those, the greatest part of whose time, from childhood to old 
age, is taken up with providing for themselves and their 

* Dan. xii. 10. See also lsa. xxix. 13, 14. Mattb. vi. 23. and xi. 25. 
and xiii. 11, 12. John iii. 19. and v. 44. 1 Cor. ii. 14. and 2 Cor. iv. 4. 
2 Tim. iii. 13. and that affectionate as well as authoritative admonition, 
so very many times inculcated, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. 
Grotius saw so strongly the thing intended in these and other passages 
of Scripture of the like sense, as to say, that the proof given us of Chris- 
tianity was less than it might have been, for this very purpose: Ut ita 
sermo Evangelii tanquam lapis esset Lydius ad quern ingenia sanabilia explo- 
rarentur. De Ver. R. C. lib. ii. towards the end. 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 221 

families the common conveniences, perhaps necessaries, of 
life : those, I mean, of this rank, who ever think at all of 
asking after proof, or attending to it. Common men, were 
they as much in earnest about religion, as about their tem- 
poral affairs, are capable of being convinced upon real evi- 
dence, that there is a God who governs the world : and they 
feel themselves to be of a moral nature, and accountable 
creatures. And as Christianity entirely falls in with this 
their natural sense of things, so they are capable, not only 
of being persuaded, but of being made to see, that there is 
evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of it, and many 
appearing completions of prophecy. But though this proof 
is real and conclusive, yet it is liable to objections, and may 
be run up into difficulties ; which, however, persons who are 
capable, not only of talking of, but of really seeing, are 
capable also of seeing through : i, e. not of clearing up and 
answering them, so as to satisfy their curiosity, for of such 
knowledge we are not capable with respect to any one thing 
in nature ; but capable of seeing that the proof is not lost in 
these difficulties, or destroyed by these objections. But then 
a thorough examination into religion, with regard to these 
objections, which cannot be the business of every man, is a 
matter of pretty large compass, and, from the nature of it, 
requires some knowledge, as well as time and attention; to 
see, how the evidence comes out, upon balancing one thing 
with another, and what, upon the whole, is the amount of it 
Now if persons who have picked up these objections from 
others, and take for granted they are of weight, upon the 
word of those from whom they received them, or, by often 
retailing of them, come to see or fancy they see them to be 
of weight ; will not prepare themselves for such an examina- 
tion, with a competent degree of knowledge ; or will not 
give that time and attention to the subject, which, from the 
nature of it, is necessary for attaining such information : in 
this case, they must remain in doubtfulness, ignorance, or 
error ; in the same way as they must, with regard to common 
sciences, and matters of common life, if they neglect the 
necessary means of being informed in them. 

But still perhaps it will be objected, that if a prince or 
common master were to send directions to a servant, he 
would take care, that they should always bear the certain 
marks, who they came from, and that their sense should be 
always plain : so as that there should be no possible doubt, 



222 



Revelation not universal: part ii. 



if he could help it, concerning- the authority or meaning of 
them. Now the proper answer to all this kind of objections 
is, that, wherever the fallacy lies, it is even certain we cannot 
argue thus with respect to Him, who is the governor of the 
world : and particularly that he does not afford us such infor- 
mation, with respect to our temporal affairs and interests, as 
experience abundantly shews. However, there is a full answer 
to this objection, from the very nature of religion. For, the 
reason why a prince would give his directions in this plain 
manner is, that he absolutely desires such an external action 
should be done, without concerning himself with the motive 
or principle upon which it is done : i. e. he regards only the 
external event, or the thing's being done ; and not at all, pro- 
perly speaking, the doing of it, or the action. Whereas the 
whole of morality and religion consisting merely in action 
itself, there is no sort of parallel between the cases. But if 
the prince be supposed to regard only the action ; i. e. only 
to desire to exercise, or in any sense prove, the understanding 
or loyalty of a servant; he would not always give his orders 
in such a plain manner. It may be proper to add, that the 
will of God, respecting morality and religion, may be con- 
sidered either as absolute, or as only conditional. If it be 
absolute, it can only be thus, that we should act virtuously 
in such given circumstances ; not that we should be brought 
to act so, by his changing of our circumstances. And if God's 
will be thus absolute, then it is in our power, in the highest 
and strictest sense, to do or to contradict his will ; which is 
a most weighty consideration. Or his will may be con- 
sidered only as conditional, that if we act so and so, we shall 
be rewarded ; if otherwise, punished : of which conditional 
will of the Author of Nature, the whole constitution of it 
affords most certain instances. 

Upon the whole : that we are in a state of religion neces- 
sarily implies, that we are in a state of probation : and the 
credibility of our being at all in such a state being admitted, 
there seems no peculiar difficulty in supposing our probation 
to be, just as it is, in those respects which are above objected 
against. There seems no pretence, from the reason of the 
thing, to say, that the trial cannot equitably be any thing, 
but whether persons will act suitably to certain information, 
or such as admits no room for doubt ; so as that there can 
be no danger of miscarriage, but either from their not attend- 
ing to what they certainly know, or from overbearing passion 



chap. vi. supposed Deficiency in its Proof. 223 

hurrying them on to act contrary to it. For, since ignorance 
and doubt afford scope for probation in all senses, as really 
as intuitive conviction or certainty ; and since the two former 
are to be put to the same account as difficulties in practice ; 
men's moral probation may als^ be, whether they will take 
due care to inform themselves by impartial consideration, 
and afterwards whether they will act as the case requires, 
upon the evidence which they have, however doubtful. And 
this, we find by experience, is frequently our probation,* in 
our temporal capacity. For, the information which we want 
with regard to our worldly interests is by no means always 
given us of course, without any care of our own. And we 
are greatly liable to self-deceit from inward secret prejudices, 
and also to the deceits of others. So that to be able to judge 
what is the prudent part, often requires much and difficult 
consideration. Then after we have judged the very best we 
can, the evidence upon which we must act, if we will live 
and act at all, is perpetually doubtful to a very high degree. 
And the constitution and course of the world in fact is 
such, as that want of impartial consideration what we have to 
do, and venturing upon extravagant courses because it is 
doubtful what will be the consequence, are often naturally, 
L e. providentially, altogether as fatal, as misconduct occa- 
sioned by heedless inattention to what we certainly know, 
or disregarding it from overbearing passion. 

Several of the observations here made may well seem 
strange, perhaps unintelligible, to many good men. But if 
the persons for whose sake they are made think so ; persons 
who object as above, and throw off all regard to religion 
under pretence of want of evidence ; I desire them to con- 
sider again, whether their thinking so be owing to any thing 
unintelligible in these observations, or to their own not having 
such a sense of religion and serious solicitude about it, as 
even their state of scepticism does in all reason require? It 
ought to be forced upon the reflection of these persons, that 
our nature and condition necessarily require us, in the daily 
course of life, to act upon evidence much lower than what is 
commonly called probable ; to guard, not only against what 
we fully believe will, but also against what we think it sup- 
posable may, happen ; and to engage in pursuits when the 
probability is greatly against success, if it be credible, that 
possibly we may succeed in them. 

* P. 78.217, &c. 



224 



Of the particular Evidence 



PART II. 



CHAP. VII. 

Of the particular Evidence for Christianity. 

The presumptions against revelation, and objections against 
the general scheme of Christianity, and particular things 
relating to it, being removed ; there remains to be consi- 
dered, what positive evidence we have for the truth of it : 
chiefly in order to see, what the analogy of nature suggests 
with regard to that evidence, and the objections against it : 
or to see what is, and is allowed to be, the plain natural rule 
of judgment and of action, in our temporal concerns, in cases 
where we have the same kind of evidence, and the same kind 
of objections against it, that we have in the case before us. 

Now in the evidence of Christianity there seem to be 
several things of great weight, not reducible to the head, 
either of miracles, or the completion of prophecy, in the com- 
mon acceptation of the words. But these two are its direct 
and fundamental proofs : and those other things, however 
considerable they are, yet ought never to be urged apart from 
its direct proofs, but always to be joined with them. Thus the 
evidence of Christianity will be a long series of things, 
reaching-, as it seems, from the beginning of the world to the 
present time, of great variety and compass, taking in both 
the direct, and also the collateral, proofs ; and making up, all 
of them together, one argument: the conviction arising from 
which kind of proof may be compared to what they call the 
effect in architecture or other works of art ; a result from a 
great number of things so and so disposed, and taken into 
one view. I shall therefore, first ) make some observations 
relating to miracles, and the appearing completions of pro- 
phecy ; and consider what analogy suggests, in answer to 
the objections brought against this evidence. And, secondly, 
I shall endeavour to give some account of the general argu- 
ment now mentioned, consisting both of the direct and col- 
lateral evidence, considered as making up one argument : 
this being the kind of proof, upon which we determine most 
questions of difficulty, concerning common facts, alleged to 
have happened, or seeming likely to happen ; especially 
questions relating to conduct. 

Firsts I shall make some observations upon the direct 
proof of Christianity from miracles and prophecy, and upon 
the objections alleged against it. 



* 



chap. vii. for Christianity. 225 

I. Now the following observations relating to the historical 
evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity 
appear to be of great weight. 

1. The Old Testament affords us the same historical evi- 
dence of the miracles of Moses and of the prophets, as of the 
common civil history of Moses and the kings of Israel ; or, 
as of the affairs of the Jewish nation. And the Gospels and 
the Acts afford us the same historical evidence of the mira- 
cles of Christ and the Apostles, as of the common matters 
related in them. This indeed could not have been affirmed 
by any reasonable man, if the authors of these Books, like 
many other historians, had appeared to make an entertain- 
ing manner of writing their aim ; though they had inter- 
spersed miracles in their works, at proper distances and upon 
proper occasions. These might have animated a dull rela- 
tion, amused the reader, and engaged his attention. And 
the same account would naturally have been given of them, 
as of the speeches and descriptions of such authors : the same 
account, in a manner, as is to be given, why the poets make 
use of wonders and prodigies. But the facts, both miracu- 
lous and natural, in Scripture, are related in plain unadorned 
narratives : and both of them appear, in all respects, to stand 
upon the same foot of historical evidence. Farther : some 
parts of Scripture, containing an account of miracles fully 
sufficient to prove the truth of Christianity, are quoted as 
genuine, from the age in which they are said to be written, 
down to the present : and no other parts of them, material in 
the present question, are omitted to be quoted in such man- 
ner, as to afford any sort of proof of their not being genuine. 
And, as common history, when called in question in any in- 
stance, may often be greatly confirmed by contemporary or 
subsequent events more known and acknowledged ; and as 
the common Scripture-history, like many others, is thus con- 
firmed ; so likewise is the miraculous history of it, not only in 
particular instances, but in general. For, the establishment 
of the Jewish and Christian religions, which were events co- 
temporary with the miracles related to be wrought in attesta- 
tion of both, or subsequent to them, these events are just what 
we should have expected, upon supposition such miracles 
were really wrought to attest the truth of those religions. 
These miracles are a satisfactory account of those events : of 
which no other satisfactory account can be given ; nor any 
account at all, but what is imaginary merely, and invented. 



226 Of the particular Evidence part ii. 

It is to be added, that the most obvious, the most easy and 
direct account of this history, how it came to be written and 
to be received in the world, as a true history, is, that it really 
is so : nor can any other account of it be easy and direct. Now, 
though an account, not at all obvious, but very far-fetched 
and indirect, may indeed be, and often is, the true account of 
a matter ; yet it cannot be admitted on the authority of its 
being asserted. Mere guess, supposition, and possibility, 
when opposed to historical evidence, prove nothing, but that 
historical evidence is not demonstrative. 

Now the just consequence from all this, 1 think, is, that 
the Scripture-history in general is to be admitted as an au- 
thentic genuine history, till somewhat positive be alleged 
sufficient to invalidate it. But no man will deny the conse- 
quence to be, that it cannot be rejected, or thrown by as of 
no authority, till it can be proved to be of none ; even though 
the evidence now mentioned for its authority were doubtful. 
This evidence may be confronted by historical evidence on 
the other side, if there be any: or general incredibility in 
the things related, or inconsistence in the general turn of the 
history, would prove it to be of no authority. But since, 
upon the face of the matter, upon a first and general view, 
the appearance is, that it is an authentic history ; it cannot 
be determined to be fictitious without some proof that it is so. 
And the following observations in support of these, and 
coincident with them, will greatly confirm the historical evi- 
dence for the truth of Christianity. 

2. The Epistles of St. Paul, from the nature of epistolary 
writing, and moreover from several of them being written, not 
to particular persons, but to churches, carry in them evidences 
of their being genuine, beyond what can be in a mere his- 
torical narrative, left to the world at large. This evidence, 
joined with that which they have in common with the rest of 
the New Testament, seems not to leave so much as any par- 
ticular pretence for defying their genuineness, considered as 
an ordinary matter of fact, or of criticism : I say particular 
pretence, for denying it ; because any single fact, of such a 
kind and such antiquity, may have general doubts raised con- 
cerning it, from the very nature of human affairs and human 
testimony. There is also to be mentioned a distinct and par- 
ticular evidence of the genuineness of the epistle chiefly re- 
ferred to here, the first to the Corinthians ; from the manner 
in which it is quoted by Clemens Romanus, in an epistle of 



chap. vii. for Christianity. 227 

his own to that church.* Now these epistles afford a proof 
of Christianity, detached from all others, which is, I think, 
a thing of weight ; and also a proof of a nature and kind 
peculiar to itself. For, 

In them the author declares, that he received the Gospel 
in general, and the institution of the Communion in particular, 
not from the rest of the Apostles, or jointly together with 
them, but alone, from Christ himself ; whom he declares 
likewise, conformably to the history in the Acts, that he saw 
after his ascension. f So that the testimony of St. Paul is 
to be considered, as detached from that of the rest of the 
Apostles. 

And he declares farther, that he was endued with a power 
of working miracles, as what was publicly known to those 
very people, speaks of frequent and great variety of miracu- 
lous gifts as then subsisting in those very churches, to which 
he was writing ; which he was reproving for several irregu- 
larities ; and where he had personal opposers : he mentions 
these gifts incidentally, in the most easy manner, and without 
effort ; by way of reproof to those who had them, for their 
indecent use of them ; and by way of depreciating them, in 
comparison of moral virtues : in short he speaks to these 
churches, of these miraculous powers, in the manner, any 
one would speak to another of a thing, which was as familiar 
and as much known in common to them both, as any thing 
in the world. J And this, as hath been observed by several 
persons, is surely a very considerable thing. 

3. It is an acknowledged historical fact, that Christianity 
offered itself to the world, and demanded to be received, upon 
the allegation, i.e. as unbelievers would speak, upon the pre- 
tence, of miracles, publicly wrought to attest the truth of it, 
in such an age ; and that it was actually received by great 
numbers in that very age, and upon the professed belief of the 
reality of these miracles. And Christianity, including the 
dispensation of the Old Testament, seems distinguished by 
this from all other religions. I mean, that this does not ap- 
pear to be the case with regard to any other ; for surely it 
will not be supposed to lie upon any person, to prove by 
positive historical evidence, that it was not. It does in no 
sort appear that Mahometanism was first received in the 

* Clem. Rom. Ep. I.e. 47. f Gal. i. 1 Cor. xi. 23, &c. 1 Cor. xv. 8. 
I Rom. xv. 19. 1 Cor. xii. 8, 9, 10—28, &c. and xiii. 1, 2, 8, and the 
whole xivth chapter. 2 Cor. xii. 12, 13. Gal. iii. 2, 5. 

P 2 



228 



Of the particular Evide?ice 



PART II. 



world upon trie foot of supposed miracles,* i. e. public ones : 
for, as revelation is itself miraculous, all pretence to it must 
necessarily imply some pretence of miracles. And it is a 
known fact, that it was immediately, at the very first, propa- 
gated by other means. And as particular institutions, whe- 
ther in Paganism or Popery, said to be confirmed by miracles 
after those institutions had obtained, are not to the purpose : 
so, were there what might be called historical proof, that any 
of them were introduced by a supposed divine command, be- 
lieved to be attested by miracles ; these would not be in any 
wise parallel. For single things of this sort are easy to be 
accounted for, after parties are formed, and have power* in 
their hands ; and the leaders of them are in veneration with 
the multitude ; and political interests are blended with reli- 
gious claims, and religious distinctions. But before any thing 
of this kind, for a few persons, and those of the lowest rank, 
all at once, to bring over such numbers to a new religion, 
and get it to be received upon the particular evidence of mi- 
racles ; this is quite another thing. And I think it will be 
allowed by any fair adversary, that the fact now mentioned, 
taking in all the circumstances of it, is peculiar to the Chris- 
tian religion, However, the fact itself is allowed, that Chris- 
tianity obtained, i. e. was professed to be received in the 
world, upon the belief of miracles, immediately in the age in 
which it is said those miracles were wrought : or that this is 
what its first converts would have alleged, as the reason for their 
embracing it. Now certainly it is not to be supposed that such 
numbers of men, in the most distant parts of the world should 
forsake the religion of their country, in which they had been 
educated ; separate themselves from their friends, particularly 
in their festival shows and solemnities, to which the com- 
mon people are so greatly addicted, and which were of a na 
ture to engage them much more, than any thing of that sort 
amongst us ; and embrace a religion, which could not but 
expose them to many inconveniences, and indeed must have 
been a giving up the world in a great degree, even from the 
very first, and before the empire engaged in form against 
them : it cannot be supposed, that such numbers should make 
so great, and, to say the least, so inconvenient a change in 
their whole institution of life, unless they were really con- 
vinced of the truth of those miracles, upon the knowledge or 
belief of which they professed to make it. And it will, I 
* See the Koran, c. xiii. and c. xvii. 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity* 



229 



suppose, readily be acknowledged, that the generality of the 
first converts to Christianity must have believed them : that 
as by becoming Christians they declared to the world, they 
were satisfied of the truth of those miracles ; so this declara- 
tion was to be credited. And this their testimony is the same 
kind of evidence for those miracles, as if they had put it in 
writing, and these writings had come down to us. And it is 
real evidence, because it is of facts, which they had capacity 
and full opportunity to inform themselves of. It is also dis- 
tinct from the direct or express historical evidence, though it 
is of the same kind : and it would be allowed to be distinct in 
all cases. For were a fact expressly related by one or more 
ancient historians, and disputed in after ages ; that this fact 
is acknowledged to have been believed by great numbers of 
the age in which the historian says it was done, would be al- 
lowed an additional proof of such fact, quite distinct from the 
express testimony of the historian. The credulity of mankind 
is acknowledged : and the suspicions of mankind ought to 
be acknowledged too; and their backwardness even to be- 
lieve, and greater still to practise, what makes against their 
interest. And it must particularly be remembered, that 
education, and prejudice, and authority, were against Chris- 
tianity, in the age I am speaking of. So that the immediate 
conversion of such numbers is a real presumption of some- 
what more than human in this matter : I say presumption, 
for it is not alleged as a proof alone and by itself. Nor need 
any one of the things mentioned in this Chapter be considered 
as a proof by itself : and yet all of them together may be one 
of the strongest.* 

Upon the whole : as there is large historical evidence, both 
direct and circumstantial, of miracles wrought in attestation 
of Christianity, collected by those who have writ upon the 
subject ; it lies upon unbelievers to shew, why this evidence 
is not to be credited. This way of speaking is, I think, just ; 
and what persons who write in defence of religion naturally 
fall into. Yet, in a matter of such unspeakable importance, 
the proper question is, not whom it lies upon, according 
to the rules of argument, to maintain or confute objections : 
but whether there really are any, against this evidence, 
sufficient, in reason, to destroy the credit of it. However, 
unbelievers seem to take upon them the part of shewing that 
there are. 

* P. 251, &c 



230 



Of the particular Evidence part 11. 



They allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, in dif- 
ferent ages and countries, expose themselves to the same dif- 
ficulties which the primitive Christians did ; and are ready 
to give up their lives for the most idle follies imaginable. 
But it is not very clear, to what purpose this objection is 
brought. For every one, surely, in every case, must distin- 
guish between opinions and facts. And though testimony 
is no proof of enthusiastic opinions, or of any opinions at all; 
yet it is allowed, in all other cases, to be a proof of facts. 
And a person's laying down his life in attestation of facts or 
of opinions, is the strongest proof of his believing them. And 
if the Apostles and their contemporaries did believe the facts, 
in attestation of wdiich they exposed themselves to sufferings 
and death ; this their belief, or rather knowledge, must be a 
proof of those facts : for they were such as came under the 
observation of their senses. And though it is not of equal 
weight, yet it is of weight, that the martyrs of the next age, 
notwithstanding they were not eye-witnesses of those facts, 
as were the Apostles and their contemporaries, had, however, 
full opportunity to inform themselves, whether they were 
true or not, and gave equal proof of their believing them to 
be- true. 

But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evidence 
of testimony even for facts, in matters relating to religion: 
some seem to think it totally and absolutely destroys the 
evidence of testimony upon this subject. And indeed the 
powers of enthusiasm, and of diseases too, which operate in 
a like manner, are very wonderful, in particular instances. 
But if great numbers of men, not appearing in any peculiar 
degree weak, nor under any peculiar suspicion of neg- 
ligence, affirm that they saw and heard such things plainly 
with their eyes and their ears, and are admitted to be in ear- 
nest; such testimony is evidence of the strongest kind we can 
have, for any matter of fact. ; Yet possibly it may be over- 
come, strong as it is, by incredibility in the things thus 
attested, or by contrary testimony. And in an instance 
where one thought it was so overcome, it might be just to 
consider, how far such evidence could be accounted for, by 
enthusiasm ; for it seems as if no other imaginable account 
were to be given of it. But till such incredibility be shewn, 
or contrary testimony produced, it cannot surely be ex- 
pected, that so far-fetched, so indirect and wonderful an ac- 
count of such testimony, as that of enthusiasm must be; an 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity . 



231 



account so strange, that the generality of mankind can scarce 
be made to understand what is meant by it : it cannot, 
I say, be expected, that such account will be admitted of such 
evidence; when there is this direct, easy, and obvious ac- 
count of it, that people really saw and heard a thing not 
incredible, which they affirm sincerely and with full as- 
surance, they did see and hear. Granting then that enthu- 
siasm is not (strictly speaking) an absurd, but a possible 
account of such testimony; it is manifest, that the very men- 
tion of it goes upon the previous supposition, that the things 
so attested are incredible:) and therefore need not be consi- 
dered, till they are shewn to be so. Much less need it 
be considered, after the contrary has been proved. And 
I think it has been proved, to full satisfaction, that there is 
no incredibility in a revelation, in general ; or in such a one 
as the Christian, in particular. However, as religion is 
supposed peculiarly liable to enthusiasm, it may just be ob- 
served, that prejudices almost without number, and without 
name, romance, affectation, humour, a desire to engage atten- 
tion, or to surprise, the party-spirit, custom, little competi- 
tions, unaccountable likings and dislikings ; these influence 
men strongly in common matters. And as these prejudices 
are often scarce known or reflected upon by the persons 
themselves who are influenced by them, they are to be con- 
sidered as influences of a like kind to enthusiasm. Yet 
human testimony in common matters is naturally and justly 
believed notwithstanding. 

It is intimated farther, in a more refined way of observa- 
tion, that though it should be proved, that the Apostles and 
first Christians could not, in some respects, be deceived 
themselves, and, in other respects, cannot be thought to have 
intended to impose upon the world ; yet it will not follow, 
that their general testimony is to be believed, though truly 
handed down to us : because they might still in part, i. e. in 
other respects, be deceived themselves, and in part also de- 
signedly impose upon others ; which, it is added, is a thing 
very credible, from that mixture of real enthusiasm, and real 
knavery, to be met with in the same characters. And, I must 
confess, I think the matter of fact contained in this observation 
upon mankind is not to be denied ; and that somewhat very 
much akin to it is often supposed in Scripture as a very com- 
mon case, and most severely reproved. But it were to have 
been expected, that persons capable of applying this obser- 



232 



Of the particular Evidence part ii. 



vation as applied in the objection, might also frequently 
have met with the like mixed character, in instances where 
religion was quite out of the case. The thing plainly is, 
that mankind are naturally endued with reason, or a capacity 
of distinguishing between truth and falsehood ; and as natu- 
rally they are endued with veracity, or a regard to truth in 
what they say : but from many occasions they are liable to be 
prejudiced and biassed and deceived themselves, and capable 
of intending to deceive others, in every degree: insomuch 
that, as we are all liable to be deceived by prejudice, so like- 
wise it seems to be not an uncommon thing, for persons, who, 
from their regard to truth, would not invent a lie entirely 
without any foundation at all, to propagate it with heighten- 
ing circumstances, after it is once invented and set agoing. 
And others, though they would not propagate a lie, yet, 
which is a lower degree of falsehood, will let it pass without 
contradiction. But, notwithstanding all this, human testi- 
mony remains still a natural ground of assent ; and this as- 
sent a natural principle of action. 

It is objected farther, that however it has happened, the 
fact is, that mankind have, in different ages, been strangely 
deluded with pretences to miracles and wonders. But it is 
by no means to be admitted, that they have been oftener, or 
are at all more liable to be deceived by these pretences, than 
by others. 

It is added, that there is a very considerable degree of his- 
torical evidence for miracles, which are, on all hands, ac- 
knowledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were even 
the like historical evidence for these, to what there is for 
those alleged in proof of Christianity, which yet is in no wise 
allowed, but suppose this ; the consequence would not be, 
that the evidence of the latter is not to be admitted. Nor is 
there a man in the world, who, in common cases, would 
conclude thus. For what would such a conclusion really 
amount to but this, that evidence, confuted by contrary evi- 
dence, or any way overbalanced, destroys the credibility of 
other evidence, neither confuted, nor overbalanced ? To 
argue, that because there is, if there were, like evidence from 
testimony, for miracles acknowledged false, as for those in 
attestation of Christianity, therefore the evidence in the latter 
case is not to be credited ; this is the same as to argue, that 
if two men of equally good reputation had given evidence in 
different cases no way connected, and one of them had been 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



233 



convicted of perjury, this confuted the testimony of the 
other. 

Upon the whole then, the general observation, that human 
creatures are so liable to be deceived, from enthusiasm in 
religion, and principles equivalent to enthusiasm in common 
matters, and in both from negligence; and that they are so 
capable of dishonestly endeavouring to deceive others ; this 
does indeed weaken the evidence of testimony in all cases, 
but does not destroy it in any. And these things will appear, 
to different men, to weaken the evidence of testimony, in 
different degrees : in degrees proportionable to the observa- 
tions they have made, or the notions they have any way 
taken up, concerning the weakness and negligence and dis- 
honesty of mankind: or concerning the powers of enthu- 
siasm, and prejudices equivalent to it. But it seems to me, 
that people do not know what they say, who affirm these 
things to destroy the evidence from testimony, which we 
have of the truth of Christianity. Nothing can destroy the 
evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or probability, 
that persons are not competent judges of the facts to which 
they give testimony ; or that they are actually under some 
indirect influence in giving it, in such particular case. Till 
this be made out, the natural laws of human actions require, 
that testimony be admitted. It can never be sufficient to 
overthrow direct historical evidence, indolently to say, that 
there are so many principles, from whence men are liable to 
be deceived themselves, and disposed to deceive others, 
especially in matters of religion, that one knows not what to 
believe. And it is surprising persons can help reflecting, 
that this very manner of speaking supposes they are not 
satisfied that there is nothing in the evidence, of which they 
speak thus ; or that they can avoid observing, if they do 
make this reflection, that it is, on such a subject, a very ma- 
terial one. # 

And over against all these objections is to be set the im- 
portance of Christianity, as what must have engaged the at- 
tention of its first converts, so as to have rendered them less 
liable to be deceived from carelessness, than they would in 
common matters ; and likewise the strong obligations to ve- 
racity, which their religion laid them under: so that the first 
and most obvious presumption is, that they could not be de- 
ceived themselves, nor deceive others. And this presumption, 
* See the foregoing Chapter. 



234 



Of the "particular Evidence 



PART II. 



in this degree, is peculiar to the testimony we have been 
considering. 

In argument, assertions are nothing in themselves, and 
have an air of positiveness, which sometimes is not very easy : 
yet they are necessary, and necessary to be repeated ; in 
order to connect a discourse, and distinctly to lay before the 
view of the reader, what is proposed to be proved, and what 
is left as proved. Now the conclusion from the foregoing 
observations is, I think, beyond all doubt, this : that unbe- 
lievers must be forced to admit the external evidence for 
Christianity, i . e. the proof of miracles wrought to attest it, 
to be of real weight and very considerable; though they can- 
not allow it to be sufficient, to convince them of the reality 
of those miracles. And as they must, in all reason, admit 
this ; so it seems to me, that upon consideration they would, 
in fact, admit it; those of them, I mean, who know anything 
at all of the matter : in like manner as persons, in many cases, 
own they see strong evidence from testimony, for the truth 
of things, which yet they cannot be convinced are true : cases, 
suppose, where there is contrary testimony ; or things which 
they, think, whether with or without reason, to be incredible. 
But there is no testimony contrary to that which we have 
been considering : and it has been fully proved, that there 
is no incredibility in Christianity in general, or in any part 
of it. 

II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy, I 
shall only make some few general observations, which are 
suggested by the Analogy of Nature ; i, e. by the acknow- 
ledged natural rules of judging in common matters, concern- 
ing evidence of a like kind to this from prophecy 7^ 

1 . The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of a pro- 
phecy does not, in any degree, invalidate the proof of fore- 
sight, arising from the appearing completion of those other 
parts which are understood. For the case is evidently the 
same, as if those parts, which are not understood, were lost, 
or not written at all, or written in an unknown tongue. 
Whether this observation be commonly attended to or not, it 
is so evident, that one can scarce bring oneself to set down 
an instance in common matters, to exemplify it. However, 
suppose a writing, partly in cipher, and partly in plain 
words at length ; and that in the part one understood, there 
appeared mention of several known facts ; it would never 
come into any man's thoughts to imagine, that if he under- 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



235 



stood the whole, perhaps he might find, that those facts were 
not in reality known by the writer. Indeed, both in this 
example and the thing intended to be exemplified by it, our 
not understanding the whole (the whole, suppose, of a sen- 
tence or a paragraph) might sometimes occasion a doubt, 
whether one understood the literal meaning of such a part : 
but this comes under another consideration. 
v For the same reason, though a man should be incapable, 
for want of learning, opportunities of inquiry, or from not 
having turned his studies this way, even so much as to judge, 
whether particular prophecies have been throughout com- 
pletely fulfilled ; yet he may see, in general, that they have 
been fulfilled to such a degree, as, upon very good ground, 
to be convinced of foresight more than human in such pro- 
phecies, and of such events being intended by them. For 
the same reason also, though, by means of the deficiencies 
in civil history, and the different accounts of historians, the 
most learned should not be able to make out to satisfaction, 
that such parts of the prophetic history have been minutely 
and throughout fulfilled ; yet a very strong proof of foresight 
may arise, from that general completion of them, which is 
made out : as much proof of foresight, perhaps, as the giver 
of prophecy intended should ever be afforded by such parts 
of prophecy. 

2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to such and 
such events, is itself a proof that it was intended of them : as 
the rules by which we naturally judge and determine, in com- 
mon cases parallel to this, will shew. This observation I 
make in answer to the common objection against the appli- 
cation of the prophecies, that, considering each of them dis- 
tinctly by itself, it does not at all appear, that they were in- 
tended of those particular events, to which they are applied 
by Christians; and therefore it is to be supposed, that, if they 
meant any thing, they were intended of other events unknown 
to us, and not of these at all. 

Now there are two kinds of writing, which bear a great 
. resemblance to prophecy, with respect to the matter before 
us i the mythological, and the satirical, where the satire is, 
to a certain degree, concealed. And a man might be assured, 
that he understood what an author intended by a fable or 
parable, related without any application or moral, merely from 
seeing it to be easily capable of such application, and that 
such a moral might naturally be deduced from it. And he 



236 



Of the particular Evidence part it. 



might be fully assured, that such persons and events were 
intended in a satirical writing, merely from its being appli- 
cable to them. And, agreeably to the last observation, he 
might be in a good measure satisfied of it, though he were 
not enough informed in affairs, or in the story of such persons, 
to understand half the satire. For, his satisfaction, that he 
understood the meaning, the intended meaning, of these writ- 
ings, would be greater or less in proportion as he saw the 
general turn of them to be capable of such application; and 
in proportion to the number of particular things capable of 
it. And thus, if a long series of prophecy is applicable to 
the present state of the church, and to the political situations 
of the kingdoms of the world, some thousand years after these 
prophecies were delivered, and a long series of prophecy de- 
livered before the coming of Christ is applicable to him; 
these things are in themselves a proof, that the prophetic his- 
tory was intended of him, and of those events : in proportion 
as the general turn of it is capable of such application, and 
to the number and variety of particular prophecies capable 
of it. And though, in all just way of consideration, the ap- 
pearing completion of prophecies is to be allowed to be thus 
explanatory of, and to determine, their meaning ; yet it is to 
be remembered farther, that the ancient Jews applied the 
prophecies to a Messiah before his coming, in much the same 
manner as Christians do now : and that the primitive Chris- 
tians interpreted the prophecies respecting the state of the 
church and of the world in the last ages, in the sense which 
the event seems to confirm and verify. And from these things 
it may be made appear : 

3. That the shewing even to a high probability, if that 
could be, that the prophets thought of some other events, in 
such and such predictions, and not those at all which Chris- 
tians allege to be completions of those predictions; or that 
such and such prophecies are capable of being applied to 
other events than those, to which Christians apply them — 
that this would not confute or destroy the force of the argu- 
ment from prophecy, even with regard to those very instances. 
For, observe how this matter really is. If one knew such a 
person to be the sole author of such a book, and was cer- 
tainly assured, or satisfied to any degree, that one knew the 
whole of what he intended in it ; one should be assured or 
satisfied to such degree, that one knew the whole meaning 
of that book : for the meaning of a book is nothing but the 



chap. vii. for Christianity. 237 



meaning of the author. But if one knew a person to have 
compiled a book out of memoirs, which he received from 
another, of vastly superior knowledge in the subject of it, 
especially if it were a book full of great intricacies and diffi- 
culties ; it would in no wise follow, that one knew the whole 
meaning of the book, from knowing the whole meaning of 
the compiler : for the original memoirs, i. e. the author of 
them, might have, and there would be no degree of pre- 
sumption, in many cases, against supposing him to have, 
some farther meaning than the compiler saw. To say then, 
that the Scriptures, and the things contained in them, can 
have no other or farther meaning than those persons thought 
or had, who first recited or wrote them ; is evidently saying, 
that those persons were the original, proper, and sole authors 
of those books, i. e. that they are not inspired : which is ab- 
surd, whilst the authority of these books is under examina- 
tion ; u e. till you have determined they are of no divine 
authority at all. VTill this be determined, it must in all reason 
be supposed, not indeed that they have, for this is taking for 
granted that they are inspired ; but that they may have, some 
farther meaning than what the compilers saw or understood. 
And, upon this supposition, it is supposable also, that this 
farther meaning may be fulfilled. Now events correspond- 
ing to prophecies, interpreted in a different meaning from 
that, in which the prophets are supposed to have understood 
them ; this affords, in a manner, the same proof, that this dif- 
ferent sense was originally intended, as it would have afforded, 
if the prophets had not understood their predictions in the 
sense it is supposed they did : because there is no presump- 
tion of their sense of them being the whole sense of them. 
And it has been already shewn, that the apparent comple- 
tions of prophecy must be allowed to be explanatory of its 
meaning. So that the question is, whether a series of pro- 
phecy has been fulfilled, in a natural or proper, L e. in any 
real sense of the words of it. For such completion is equally 
a proof of foresight more than human, whether the prophets 
are, or are not, supposed to have understood it in a different 
sense. I say, supposed : for, though I think it clear, that 
the prophets did not understand the full meaning of their 
predictions ; it is another question, how far they thought 
they did, and in what sense they understood them. 

Hence may be seen, to how little purpose those persons 
busy themselves, who endeavour to prove, that the prophetic 



238 Of the particular Evidence part ii. 

history is applicable to events of the age in which it was 
written, or of ages before it. Indeed to have proved this, 
before there was any appearance of a farther completion of 
it, might have answered some purpose ; for it might have 
prevented the expectation of any such farther completion. 
Thus could Porphyry have shewn, that some principal parts 
of the book of Daniel, for instance, the seventh verse of the 
seventh chapter, which the Christians interpreted of the 
latter ages, was applicable to events, which happened before 
or about the age of Antiochus Epiphanes ; this might have 
prevented them from expecting any farther completion of it. 
And, unless there was then, as I think there must have been, 
external evidence concerning that book, more than is come 
down to us; such a discovery might have been a stumbling- 
block in the way of Christianity itself : considering the 
authority which our Saviour has given to the book of Daniel, 
and how much the general scheme of Christianity presup- 
poses the truth of it. But even this discovery, had there 
been any such,* would be of very little weight with reason- 
able men now ; if this passage, thus applicable to events 
before the age of Porphyry, appears to be applicable also to 
events, which succeeded the dissolution of the Roman em- 
pire. I mention this, not at all as intending to insinuate, 
that the division of this empire into ten parts, for it plainly 
was divided into about that number, were, alone and by 
itself, of any moment in verifying the prophetic history: but 
only as an example of the thing I am speaking of. And thus 
upon the whole, the matter of inquiry evidently must be, as 
above put, Whether the prophecies are applicable to Christ, 
and to the present state of the world, and of the church; ap- 
plicable in such a degree, as to imply foresight: not whether 
they are capable of any other application; though I know 
no pretence for saying the general turn of them is capable 
of any other. 

These observations are, I think, just ; and the evidence 
referred to in them real : though there may be people who 
will not accept of such imperfect information from Scripture. 

* It appears that Porphyry did nothing worth mentioning in this way. 
For Jerome on the place says : Duas posteriores bestias — in uno Macedonum 
regno ponit. And as to the ten kings; Decern reges enumerate quifuerunt 
sceiissimi: ipsosque reges non unius ponit regni, verbi gratia, Macedonia, Syrice, 
Asia, et JEgypti; sed de dhersis regnis unum efficit re gum ordinem. And 
in this way of interpretation, any thing may be made of any thing. 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



239 



Some too have not integrity and regard enough to truth, to 
attend to evidence, which keeps the mind in doubt, perhaps 
perplexity, and which is much of a different sort from what 
they expected. And it plainly requires a degree of modesty 
and fairness, beyond what every one has, for a man to say, 
not to the world, but to himself, that there is a real appear- 
ance of somewhat of great weight in this matter, though he 
is not able thoroughly to satisfy himself about it ; but it shall 
have its influence upon him, in proportion to its appearing 
reality and weight. It is much more easy, and more falls in 
with the negligence, presumption, and wilfulness of the ge- 
nerality, to determine at once, with a decisive air, There is 
nothing in it. The prejudices arising from that absolute 
contempt and scorn, with which this evidence is treated in 
the world, I do not mention. For what indeed can be said 
to persons, who are weak enough in their understandings to 
think this any presumption against it ; or, if they do not, are 
yet weak enough in their temper to be influenced by such 
prejudices, upon such a subject? 

I shall now, Secondly, endeavour to give some account of 
the general argument for the truth of Christianity, consist- 
ing both of the direct and circumstantial evidence, consi- 
dered as making up one argument. Indeed to state and 
examine this argument fully, would be a work much beyond 
the compass of this whole treatise ; nor is so much as a proper 
abridgment of it to be expected here. Yet the present sub- 
ject requires to have some brief account of it given. For it 
is the kind of evidence, upon which most questions of diffi- 
culty, in common practice, are determined : evidence arising 
from various coincidences, which support and confirm each 
other, and in this manner prove, with more or less certainty, 
the point under consideration. And I choose to do it also : 
First, because it seems to be of the greatest importance, and 
not duly attended to by every one, that the proof of revela- 
tion is, not some direct and express things only, but a great 
variety of circumstantial things also ; and that though each 
of these direct and circumstantial things is indeed to be con- 
sidered separately, yet they are afterwards to be joined toge- 
ther; for that the proper force of the evidence consists in the 
result of those several things, considered in their respects to 
each other, and united into one view : and in the next place, 
because it seems to me, that the matters of fact here set clown, 
which are acknowledged by unbelievers, must be acknow- 



240 



Of the 'particular Evidence part u. 



ledged by them also to contain together a degree of evidence 
of great weight, if they could be brought to lay these several 
things before themselves distinctly, and then with attention 
consider them together ; instead of that cursory thought of 
them, to which we are familiarized. For being familiarized 
to the cursory thought of things as really hinders the weight 
of them from being seen, as from having its due influence 
upon practice. 

The thing asserted, and the truth of which is to be in- 
quired into, is this : That over and above our reason and 
affections, which God has given us for the information of 
our judgment and the conduct of our lives, he has also, by 
external revelation, given us an account of himself and his 
moral government over the world, implying a future state of 
rewards and punishments; i. e. hath revealed the system of 
natural religion : for natural religion may be externally* re- 
vealed by God, as the ignorant may be taught it by mankind 
their fellow- creatures — that God, I say, has given us the evi- 
dence of revelation, as well as the evidence of reason, to ascer- 
tain this moral system; together with an account of a parti- 
cular dispensation of Providence, which reason could no way 
have discovered, and a particular institution of religion 
founded on it, for the recovery of mankind out of their pre- 
sent wretched condition, and raising them to the perfection 
and final happiness of their nature. 

This revelation, whether real or supposed, may be consi- 
dered as wholly historical. For prophecy is nothing but 
the history of events before they come to pass ; doctrines 
also are matters of fact ; and precepts come under the same 
notion. And the general design of Scripture, which con- 
tains in it this revelation, thus considered as historical, may 
be said to be, to give us an account of the world, in this one 
single view, as Gods world : by which it appears essentially 
distinguished from all other books, so far as I have found, 
except such as are copied from it. It begins with an ac- 
count of God's creation of the world, in order to ascertain, 
and distinguish from all others, who is the object of our wor- 
ship, by what he has done : in order to ascertain, who he is, 
concerning whose providence, commands, promises, and 
threatenings, this sacred book, all along, treats; the Maker 
and Proprietor of the world, he whose creatures we are, the 
God of nature : in order likewise to distinguish him from the 

* P. 157, &c. 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



241 



idols of the nations, which are either imaginary beings, i. e. 
no beings at all ; or else part of that creation, the historical 
relation of which is here given. And St. John, not impro- 
bably, with an eye to this Mosaic account of the creation, 
begins his Gospel with an account of our Saviour's preexist- 
ence, and that all things were made by him; and without him 
was not any thing made that was made ;'* agreeably to the doc- 
trine of St. Paul, that God created all things by Jesus Christ. ,f 
This being premised, the Scripture, taken together, seems 
to profess to contain a kind of an abridgment of the history 
of the world, in the view just now mentioned: that is, a 
general account of the condition of religion and its profes- 
sors, during the continuance of that apostasy from God, 
and state of wickedness, which it every where supposes the 
world to lie in. And this account of the state of religion 
carries with it some brief account of the political state of 
things, as religion is affected by it. Revelation indeed con- 
siders the common affairs of this world, and what is going on 
in it, as a mere scene of distraction ; and cannot be supposed 
to concern itself with foretelling at what time Rome, or Ba- 
bylon, or Greece, or any particular place, should be the 
most conspicuous seat of that tyranny and dissoluteness, 
which all places equally aspire to be ; cannot, I say, be sup- 
posed to give an account of this wild scene for its own sake. 
But it seems to contain some very general account of the 
chief governments of the world, as the general state of reli- 
gion has been, is, or shall be, affected by them, from the first 
transgression, and during the whole interval of the world's 
continuing in his present state, to a certain future period, 
spoken of both in the Old and New Testament, very dis- 
tinctly, and in great variety of expression : The times of the 
restitution of all things : J when the mystery of God shall be 
finished, as he hath declared to his servants the prophets :§ 
when the God of heaven shall set up a kingdom, which shall 
never be destroyed : and the kingdom shall not be left to other 
people^ as it is represented to be during this apostasy, but 
judgment shall be given to the saints,^ and they shall reign:** 
and the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the king- 
dom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the 
saints of the Most High.^ 

* John i. 3. t Eph. iii. 9. 
t Acts iii. 21. § Rev. x. 7. y Dan. ii. 44. 

f Dan. vii. 22. ** Rev. xx. 6. ft Dan. vii. 27. 

Q 



242 



Of the particular Evidence part m 



Upon this general view of the Scripture, I would remark, j 
bow great a length of time the whole relation takes up, near 
six thousand years of which are past; and how great a va- 
riety of things it treats of ; the natural and moral system or 
history of the world, including the time when it was formed, 
all contained in the very first book, and evidently. written in 
a rude and unlearned age ; and in subsequent books, the 
various common and prophetic history, and the particular 
dispensation of Christianity. Now all this together gives 
the largest scope for criticism ; and for confutation of what 
is capable of being confuted, either from reason, or from 
common history, or from any inconsistence in its several 
parts. And it is a thing which deserves, I think, to be men- 
tioned, that whereas some imagine the supposed doubtfulness 
of the evidence for revelation implies a positive argument 
that it is not true; it appears, on the contrary, to imply a 
positive argument that it is true. For, could any common 
revelation of such antiquity, extent, and variety (for in these 
things the stress of what I am now observing lies), be pro- 
posed to the examination of the world : that it could not, in 
any age of knowledge and liberty, be confuted, or shewn to 
have nothing in it, to the satisfaction of reasonable men ; this 
would be thought a strong presumptive proof of its truth. 
And indeed it must be a proof of it, just in proportion to the 
probability, that if it were false, it might be shewn to be so: 
and this, I think, is scarce pretended to be shewn, but upon 
principles and in ways of arguing, which have been clearly 
obviated.* Nor does it at all appear, that any set of men, 
who believe natural religion, are of the opinion, that Chris- 
tianity has been thus confuted. But to proceed : 

Together with the moral system of the world, the Old 
Testament contains a chronological account of the beginning 
of it, and from thence, an unbroken genealogy of mankind 
for many ages before common history begins ; and carried 
on as much farther as to make up a continued thread of his- 
tory of the length of between three and four thousand years. 
It contains an account of God's making a covenant with a 
particular nation, that they should be his people, and he 
would be their God, in a peculiar sense; of his often inter- 
posing miraculously in their affairs ; giving them the pro- 
mise, and, long after, the possession, of a particular country; 
assuring them of the greatest national prosperity in it, if they 

* Ch. ii. iii. &c. 



CHAP. vir. 



for Christianity . 



243 



would worship him, in opposition to the idols which the rest of 
the world worshipped, and obey his commands; and threat- 
ening them with unexampled punishments if they disobeyed 
him, and fell into the general idolatry : insomuch that this 
one nation should continue to be the observation and the 
wonder of all the world. It declares particularly, that God 
would scatter them among all people, from one end of the earth 
unto the other : but that when they should return unto the 
Lord their God, he would have compassion upon them, and 
gather them from all the nations, whither he had scattered 
them : that Israel should he saved in the Lord, with an ever- 
lasting salvation; and not he ashamed or confounded world 
without end. And as some of these promises are conditional, 
others are as absolute, as any thing can be expressed : that 
the time should come, when the people should be all righteous, 
and inherit the land for ever : that though God would make a 
full end of all nations whither he had scattered them, yet 
would he not make a full end of them: that he icould bring 
again the captivity of his people Israel, and plant them upon 
their land, and they should be no more pulled up out of their 
land: that the seed of Israel should not cease from being a 
nation for ever* It foretells, that God would raise them up 
a particular person, in whom all his promises should finally 
be fulfilled; the Messiah, who should be, in a high and 
eminent sense, their anointed Prince and Saviour. This was 
foretold in such a manner, as raised a general expectation of 
such a person in the nation, as appears from the New Tes- 
tament, and is an acknowledged fact; an expectation of his 
coming at such a particular time, before any one appeared 
claiming to be that person, and when there was no ground 
for such an expectation, but from the prophecies : which ex- 
pectation, therefore, must in all reason be presumed to be 
explanatory of those prophecies, if there were any doubt 
about their meaning. Jt seems moreover to foretell, that 
this person should be rejected by that nation, to whom he 
had been so long promised, and though he was so much de- 
sired by them.f And it expressly foretells, that he should 
be the Saviour of the Gentiles ; and even that the comple- 
tion of the scheme contained in this book, and then begun, 
and in its progress, should be somewhat so great, that in 

* Deut. xxviii. 64, xxx. 2,3. Is. x\v. 17. lx. 21. Jer. xxx. 11. xlvi. 28. 
Amos ix. 14, 15. Jer. xxxi. 36. 

f Is. viii. 14, 15. xlix. 5. ch. liii. Mai. i, 10. ll.'andch ii : 

' q2 



244 



Of the particular Evidence pa rt i i. 



comparison with it, the restoration of the Jews alone would 
be but of small account. It is a light thing that thou shoulclest 
he my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore 
the preserved of Israel : I will also give thee for a light to 
the Gentiles, that thou may est be for salvation unto the end of 
the earth. And, In the last days, the mountain of the Lord's 
house shall be establish ed in the top of the mountains, and shall 
be exalted above the hills ; and all nations shall flow into it — : 
for out of Zimi shall go forth the law, and the word of the 
Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations 
— and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day, and the 
idols he shall utterly abolish * The Scripture farther con- 
tains an account, that at the time the Messiah was expected, 
a person rose up in this nation, claiming to be that Messiah, 
to be the person whom all the prophecies referred to, and 
in whom they should centre : that he spent some years in 
a continued course of miraculous works ; and endued his 
immediate disciples and followers with a power of doing 
the same, as a proof of the truth of that religion, which 
he commissioned them to publish : that, invested with this 
authority and power, they made numerous converts in the 
remotest countries, and settled and established his religion in 
the world ; to the end of which the Scripture professes to 
give a prophetic account of the state of this religion amongst 
mankind. 

Let us now suppose a person utterly ignorant of history, to 
have all this related to him out of the Scripture. Or suppose 
such a one, having the Scripture put into his hands, to re- 
mark these things in it, not knowing but that the whole, even 
its civil history, as well as the other parts of it, might be, from 
beginning to end, an entire invention; and to ask, What truth 
was in it, and whether the revelation here related was real, or 
a fiction? And, instead of a direct answer, suppose him, all 
at once, to be told the following confessed facts; and then to 
unite them into one view. 

Let him first be told, in how great a degree the profession 
and establishment of natural religion, the belief that there is 
one God to be worshipped, that virtue is his law, and that 
mankind shall be rewarded and punished hereafter, as they 

* Is. xlix. 6. chap. ii. chap. xi. chap. lvi. 7. Mai. i. 11. To which 
must be added, the other prophecies of the like kind, several in the New 
Testament, and very many in the Old; which describe what shall be ihe 
completion of the revealed plan of Providence. 



CHAP. VII. 



for Ch ristianity . 



245 



obey and disobey it here ; in how very great a degree, I say, 
the profession and establishment of this moral system in the 
world is owing to the revelation, whether real or supposed, 
contained in this book : the establishment of this moral sys- 
tem, even in those countries which do not acknowledge the 
proper authority of the Scripture.* Let him be told also, 
what number of nations do acknowledge its proper authority. 
Let him then take in the consideration, of what importance 
religion is to mankind. And upon these things he might, I 
think, truly observe, that this supposed revelation's obtaining 
and being received in the world, with all the circumstances 
and effects of it, considered together as one event, is the most 
conspicuous and important event in the history of mankind : 
that a book of this nature, and thus promulged and recom- 
mended to our consideration, demands, as if by a voice from 
heaven, to have its claims most seriously examined into: and 
that, before such examination, to treat it with any kind of 
scoffing and ridicule, is an offence against natural piety. But 
it is to be remembered, that how much soever the establish- 
ment of natural religion in the world is owing to the Scrip- 
ture-revelation, this does not destroy the proof of religion 
from reason, any more than the proof of Euclid's Elements 
is destroyed, by a man's knowing or thinking, that he should 
never have seen the truth of the several propositions con- 
tained in it, nor had those propositions come into his thoughts, 
but for that mathematician. 

(Let such a person as we are speaking of be, in the next 
place, informed of the acknowledged antiquity of the first 
parts of this book ; and that its chronology, its account of 
the time when the earth, and the several parts of it, were first 
peopled with human creatures, is no way contradicted, but 
is really confirmed, by the natural and civil history of the 
world, collected from common historians, from the state of 
the earth, and from the late invention of arts and sciences. 
\And as the Scripture contains an unbroken thread of common 
and civil history, from the creation to the captivity, for be- 
tween three and four thousand years ; let the person we are 
speaking of be told, in the next place, that this general his- 
tory, as it is not contradicted, but is confirmed by profane 
history as much as there would be reason to expect, upon 
supposition of its truth : so there is nothing in the whole 
history itself to give any reasonable ground of suspicion] of 



246 Of the particular Evidence part n. 

its not being, in the general, a faithful and literally true ge- 
nealogy of men, and series of things. I speak here only of 
the common Scripture-history, or of the course of ordinary 
events related in it, as distinguished from miracles, and from 
the prophetic history. In all the Scripture-narrations of this 
kind, following events arise out of foregoing ones, as in all 
other histories. There appears nothing related as done in 
any age, not conformable to the manners of that age : nothing 
in the account of a succeeding age, which, one would say, 
could not be true, or was improbable, from the account of 
things in the preceding one. There is nothing in the cha- 
racters, which would raise a thought of their being feigned; 

but all the internal marks imaginable of their being: real. It 

© © 

is to be added also, that mere genealogies, bare narratives of 
the number of years, which persons called by such and such 
names lived, do not carry the face of fiction \ perhaps do 
carry some presumption of veracity: and all unadorned nar- 
ratives, which have nothing to surprise, may be thought to 
carry somewhat of the like presumption too. And the do- 
mestic and the political history is plainly credible. There 
may be incidents in Scripture, which, taken alone in the 
naked way they are told, may appear strange ; especially to 
persons of other manners, temper, education : but there are 
also incidents of undoubted truth, in many or most persons' 
lives, which, in the same circumstances, would appear to the 
full as strange. There may be mistakes of transcribers, there 
may be other real or seeming mistakes, not easy to be parti- 
cularly accounted for : but there are certainly no more things 
of this kind in the Scripture, than what were to have been 
expected in books of such antiquity ; and nothing, in any 
wise, sufficient to discredit the general narrative. Now, that 
a history, claiming to commence from the creation, and ex- 
tending in one continued series, through so great a length of 
time, and variety of events, should have such appearances of 
reality and truth in its whole contexture, is surely a very re- 
markable circumstance in its favour. And as all this is appli- 
cable to the common history of the New Testament, so there 
is a farther credibility, and a very high one, given to it by 
profane authors : many of these writing of the same times, 
and confirming the truth of customs and events, which are 
incidentally as well as more purposely mentioned in it. And 
this credibility of the common Scripture-history, gives some 
credibility to . its miraculous history : especially as this is in- 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



247 



terwoven with the common, so as that they imply each other, 
and both together make up one relation. 

. Let it then be more particularly observed to this person, 
that it is an acknowledged matter of fact, which is indeed 
implied in the foregoing observation, that there was such a 
nation as the Jews, of the greatest antiquity, whose govern- 
ment and general polity was founded on the law, here related 
to be given them by Moses as from heaven : that natural reli- 
gion, though with rites additional yet no way contrary to it, 
was their established religion, which cannot be said of the 
Gentile world : and that their very being as a nation, de- 
pended upon their acknowledgment of one God, the God of 
the universe. For, suppose in their captivity in Babylon, 
they had gone over to the religion of their conquerors, there 
would have remained no bond of union, to keep them a dis- 
tinct people. And whilst they were under their own kings, 
in their own country, a total apostasy from God would have 
been the dissolution of their whole government. They in 
such a sense nationally acknowledged and worshipped the 
Maker of heaven and earth, when the rest of the world were 
sunk in idolatry, as rendered them, in fact, the peculiar people 
of God. And this so remarkable an establishment and pre- 
servation of natural religion amongst them, seems to add 
some peculiar credibility to the historical evidence for the 
miracles of Moses and the Prophets : because these miracles 
are a full satisfactory account of this event, which plainly 
wants to be accounted for, and cannot otherwise. 
V Let this person, supposed wholly ignorant of history, be 
acquainted farther, that one claiming to be the Messiah, of 
Jewish extraction, rose up at the time when this nation, 
from the prophecies above mentioned, expected the Messiah: 
that he was rejected, as it seemed to have been foretold he 
should, by the body of the people, under the direction of their 
rulers : that in the course of a very few years, he was believed 
on and acknowledged as the promised Messiah, by great 
numbers among the Gentiles, agreeably to the prophecies 
of Scripture, yet not upon the evidence of prophecy, but of 
miracles,* of which miracles we have also strong historical 
evidence; (by which I mean here no more than must be ac- 
knowledged by unbelievers; for let pious frauds and follies 
be admitted to weaken, it is absurd to say they destroy, our 
evidence of miracles wrought in proof of Christianity ;f) that 
* P. 227, &c. t P- 232, &c. 



243 



Of the 'particular Evidence part it; 



this religion approving itself to the reason of mankind, and 
carrying its own evidence with it, so far as reason is a judge 
of its system, and being no way contrary to reason in those 
parts of it which require to be believed upon the mere autho- 
rity of its Author; that this religion, I say, gradually spread 
and supported itself for some hundred years, not only without 
any assistance from temporal power, but under constant dis- 
couragements, and often the bitterest persecutions from it; 
and then became the religion of the world :; that in the mean 
time the Jewish nation and government were destroyed in a > 
very remarkable manner, and the people carried away captive 
and dispersed through the most distant countries ; in which 
state of dispersion they have remained fifteen hundred years: 
and that they remain a numerous people, united amongst 
themselves, and distinguished from the rest of the world, as 
they were in the days of Moses, by the profession of his law; 
and every where looked upon in a manner, which one scarce 
knows how distinctly to express, but in the words of the 
prophetic account of it, given so many ages before it came to 
pass; Thou shalt become an astonishment, a proverb, and a 
by-word, among all nations whither the Lord shall lead thee* 
The appearance of a standing miracle, in the Jews remain- 
ing a distinct people in their dispersion, and the confirmation 
which this event appears to give to the truth of revelation, 
may be thought to be answered, by their religion's forbidding 
them intermarriages with those of any other, and prescribing 
them a great many peculiarities in their food, by which they 
are debarred from the means of incorporating with the people 
in whose countries they live. This is not, I think, a satis- 
factory account of that which it pretends to account for. 
But what does it pretend to account for? The correspondence 
between this event and the prophecies ; or the coincidence 
of both, with a long dispensation of Providence, of a peculiar 
nature, towards that people formerly ? No. It is only the 
event itself, which is offered to be thus accounted for ; which 
single event, taken alone, abstracted from all such correspon- 
dence and coincidence, perhaps would not have appeared 
miraculous : but that correspondence and coincidence may 
be so, though the event itself be supposed not. ) Thus the con- 
currence of our Saviours being born at Bethlehem, with a 
long foregoing series of prophecy and other coincidences, is 
doubtless miraculous ; the series of prophecy, and other coin- 

* Deut. xxviii. 37. 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



249 



eidences, and the event, being admitted : though the event 
itself, his birth at that place, appears to have been brought 
about in a natural way ; of which, however, no one can be 
certain. 

And as several of these events seem, in some degree ex- 
pressly, to have verified the prophetic history already ; so 
likewise they may be considered farther, as having a peculiar 
aspect towards the full completion of it ; as affording some 
presumption that the whole of it shall, one time or other, be 
fulfilled. Thus, that the Jews have been so wonderfully pre- 
served in their long and wide dispersion; which is indeed 
the direct fulfilling of some prophecies, but is now mentioned 
only as looking forward to somewhat yet to come : that na- 
tural religion came forth from Judea, and spread, in the degree 
it has done over the world, before lost in idolatry ; which, 
together with some other things, have distinguished that very 
place, in like manner as the people of it are distinguished : 
that this great change of religion over the earth was brought 
about under the profession and acknowledgment, that Jesus 
was the promised Messiah : things of this kind naturally turn 
the thoughts of serious men towards the full completion of 
the prophetic history, concerning the final restoration of that 
people ; concerning the establishment of the everlasting king- 
dom among them, the kingdom of the Messiah ; and the 
future state of the world, under this sacred government. 
Such circumstances and events, compared with these pro- 
phecies, though no completions of them, yet would not, I 
think, be spoken of as nothing in the argument, by a person 
upon his first being informed of them. They fall in with the 
prophetic history of things still future, give it some additional 
credibility, have the appearance of being somewhat in order 
to the full completion of it. 

Indeed it requires a good degree of knowledge, and great 
calmness and consideration, to be able to judge thoroughly of 
the evidence for the truth of Christianity, from that part of 
the prophetic history which relates to the situation of the 
kingdoms of the world, and to the state of the Church, from 
the establishment of Christianity to the present time. But 
it appears from a general view of it, to be very material. 
And those persons who have thoroughly examined it, and 
some of them were men of the coolest tempers, greatest 
capacities, and least liable to imputations of prejudice, insist 
upon it as determinately conclusive. 



2 50 Of the particular Evidence partii. 

Suppose now a person quite ignorant of history, first to 
recollect the passages above mentioned out of Scripture, with- 
out knowing but that the whole was a late fiction, then to be 
informed of the correspondent facts now mentioned, and to 
unite them all into one view: that the profession and establish- 
ment of natural religion in the world is greatly owing, in dif- 
ferent ways, to this book, and the supposed revelation which 
it contains; that it is acknowledged to be of the earliest 
antiquity ; that its chronology and common history are entirely 
credible ; that this ancient nation, the Jews, of whom it chiefly 
treats, appear to have been, in fact, the people of God, in a 
distinguished sense ; that, as there was a national expectation 
amongst them, raised from the prophecies, of a Messiah to 
appear at such a time, so one at this time appeared claiming 
to be that Messiah ; that he was rejected by this nation, but 
received by the Gentiles, not upon the evidence of prophecy, 
but of miracles ; that the religion he taught supported itself 
under the greatest difficulties, gained ground, and at length 
became the religion of the world ; that in the mean time the 
Jewish polity was utterly destroyed, and the nation dispersed 
over the face of the earth ; that notwithstanding this, they 
have remained a distinct numerous people for so many cen- 
turies, even to this day ; which not only appears to be the ex- 
press completion of several prophecies concerning them, but 
also renders it, as one may speak, a visible and easy possibility 
that the promises made to them as a nation, may yet be ful- 
filled. And to these acknowledged truths, let the person we 
have been supposing add, as I think he ought, whether every 
one will allow it or no, the obvious appearances which there 
are, of the state of the world, in other respects besides what 
relates to the Jews, and of the Christian Church, having so, 
long answered, and still answering to the prophetic history.) 
Suppose, I say, these facts set over against the things before 
mentioned out of the Scripture, and seriously compared with 
them ; the joint view of both together must, I think, appear 
of very great weight to a considerate reasonable person : of 
much greater indeed, upon having them first laid before him, 
than is easy for us, who are so familiarized to them, to con- 
ceive, without some particular attention for that purpose. 

All these things, and the several particulars contained 
under them, require to be distinctly and most thoroughly ex- 
amined into ; that the weight of each may be judged of, upon 
such examination, and such conclusion drawn as results from 



CHAP. VII. 



for Christianity. 



251 



their united force. But this has not been attempted here. I 
have gone no farther than to shew, that the general imperfect 
view of them now given, the confessed historical evidence for 
miracles, and the many obvious appearing completions of 
prophecy, together with the collateral things* here mentioned, 
and there are several others of the like sort ; that all this to- 
gether, which, being fact, must be acknowledged by unbe- 
lievers, amounts to real evidence of somewhat more than 
human in this matter : evidence much more important, than 
careless men, who have been accustomed only to transient and 
partial views of it, can imagine ; and indeed abundantly suf- 
ficient to act upon. And these things, I apprehend, must be 
acknowledged by unbelievers. -..For though they may say, 
that the historical evidence of miracles wrought in attestation 
of Christianity, is not sufficient to convince them, that such 
miracles were really wrought: they cannot deny, that there 
is such historical evidence, it being a known matter of fact 
that there is. They may say, the conformity between the 
prophecies and events is by accident : but there are many 
instances in which such conformity itself cannot be denied.^ 
They may say, with regard to such kind of collateral things 
as those above mentioned, that any odd accidental events, with- 
out meaning:, will have a meaning- found in them bv fanciful 
people : and that such as are fanciful in any one certain way, 
will make out a thousand coincidences, which seem to favour 
their peculiar follies. Men, I say, may talk thus : but no one 
who is serious, can possibly think these things to be nothing, 
if he considers the importance of collateral things, and even 
of lesser circumstances, in the evidence of probability, as 
distinguished in nature, from the evidence of demonstration. 
In many cases indeed it seems to require the truest judgment, 
to determine with exactness the weight of circumstantial evi- 
dence : but it is very often altogether as convincing, as that 
which is the most express and direct. 

This general view of the evidence for Christianity, considered 
as making one argument, may also serve to recommend to 
serious persons, to set down every thing which they think may 
be of any real weight at all in proof of it, and particularly 
the many seeming completions of prophecy : and they will 
find, that, judging by the natural rules, by which we judge 

* All the particular things mentioned in this chapter, not reducible to 
the head of certain miracles, or determinate completions of prophecv. See 

p . 224. btis .floiteAihf isx-sr done 



252 



Of the particular Evidence, fyc. part ii. 



of probable evidence in common matters, they amount toa 
much higher degree of proof, upon such a joint review, than 
could be supposed upon considering them separately, at dif- 
ferent times; how strong soever the proof might before ap- 
pear to them, upon such separate views of it. \ For probable 
proofs, by being added, not only increase the evidence, but 
multiply it. Nor should I dissuade any one from setting 
down, what he thought made for the contrary side. But then 
it is to be remembered, not in order to influence his judg- 
ment, but his practice, that a mistake on one side may be, 
in its consequences, much more dangerous, than a mistake on 
the other. And what course is most safe, and what most 
dangerous, is a consideration thought very material, when we 
deliberate, not concerning events, but concerning conduct in 
our temporal affairs. To be influenced by this consideration 
in our judgment, to believe or disbelieve upon it, is indeed 
as much prejudice, as anything whatever. And, like other pre- 
judices, it operates contrary ways, in different men ; for some 
are inclined to believe what they hope, and others what they 
fear. And it is manifest unreasonableness to apply to men's 
passions in order to gain their assent. But in deliberations 
concerning conduct, there is nothing which reason more re- 
quires to be taken into the account, than the importance of it. 
For, suppose it doubtful, what would be the consequence of 
acting in this, or in a contrary manner : still, that taking one 
side could be attended with little or no bad consequence, and 
taking the other might be attended with the greatest, must ap- 
pear, to unprejudiced reason, of the highest moment towards 
determining, how we are to act. But the truth of our reli- 
gion, like the truth of common matters, is to be judged of by all 
the evidence taken together. And unless the whole series of 
things which may be alleged in this argument, and every par- 
ticular thing in it, can reasonably be supposed to have been 
by accident (for here the stress of the argument for Chris- 
tianity lies) ; then is the truth of it proved : in like manner, 
as if in any common case, numerous events acknowledged, 
were to be alleged in proof of any other event disputed ; 
the truth of the disputed event would be proved, not only if 
any one of the acknowledged ones did of itself clearly imply 
it, but, though no one of them singly did so, if the whole of 
the acknowledged events taken together could not in reason be 
supposed to have happened, unless the disputed one were true. 
It is obvious, how much advantage the nature of this evi- 



chap. viii. Objections against the Analogy, 8$c. 253 

dence gives to those persons who attack Christianity, espe- 
cially in conversation. For it is easy to shew, in a short and 
lively manner, that such and such things are liable to objec- 
tion, that this and another thing is of little weight in itself ; 
but impossible to shew, in like manner, the united force of 
the whole argument in one view. 

However, lastly, as it has been made appear, that there is 
no presumption against a revelation as miraculous ; that the 
general scheme of Christianity, and the principal parts of it, 
are conformable to the experienced constitution of things, 
and the whole perfectly credible : so the account now given 
of the positive evidence for it, shews, that this evidence is 
such, as, from the nature of it, cannot be destroyed, though 
it should be lessened. 

CHAP. VIII. 

Of the Objections which may be made against arguing from 
the Analogy of Nature, to Religion. 

If every one would consider, with such attention as they are 
bound, even in point of morality, to consider, what they judge 
and give characters of; the occasion of this chapter would 
be, in some good measure at least, superseded. But since 
this is not to be expected ; for some we find do not concern 
themselves to understand even what they write against: since 
this treatise, in common with most others, lies open to objec- 
tions, which may appear very material to thoughtful men at 
first sight; and, besides that, seems peculiarly liable to the 
objections of such as can judge without thinking, and of 
such as can censure without judging ; it may not be amiss 
to set down the chief of these objections which occur to me, 
and consider them to their hands. And they aVe such as 
these ; 

" That it is a poor thing to solve difficulties in revelation, 
by saying, that there are the same in natural religion ; when 
what is wanting is to clear both of them of these their 
common, as well as other their respective, difficulties : but 
tlrat it is a strange way indeed of convincing men of the 
obligations of religion, to shew them, that they have as little 
reason for their worldly pursuits : and a strange way of vin- 
dicating the justice and goodness of the Author of Nature, 
and of removing the objections against both, to which the 



254 



Objections against the Analogy part ii. 



system of religion lies open, to shew, that the like objections 
lie against natural providence ; a way of answering objec- 
tions against religion, without so much as pretending to make 
out, that the system of it, or the particular things in it ob- 
jected against, are reasonable especially, perhaps some 

may be inattentive enough to add, Must this be thought 
strange, when it is confessed that analogy is no answer to 
such objections : that when this sort of reasoning is carried 
to the utmost length it can be imagined capable of, it will 
yet leave the mind in a very unsatisfied state : and that it 
must be unaccountable ignorance of mankind, to imagine 
they will be prevailed with to forego their present interests 
and pleasures, from regard to religion, upon doubtful 
evidence." 

Now, as plausible as this way of talking may appear, that 
appearance will be found in a great measure owing to half- 
views, which shew but part of an object, yet shew that in- 
distinctly, and to undeterminate language. By these means 
weak men are often deceived by others, and ludicrous men, 
by themselves. And even those, who are serious and consi- 
derate, cannot always readily disentangle, and at once clearly 
see through the perplexities, in which subjects themselves 
are involved ; and which are heightened by the deficiencies 
and the abuse of words. To this latter sort of persons, the 
following reply to each part of this objection severally, may 
be of some assistance ; as it may also tend a little to stop 
and silence others. 

First, The thing wanted, i. e. what men require, is to have 
all difficulties cleared. And this is, or, at least for any thing 
we know to the contrary, it may be, the same, as requiring 
to comprehend the Divine nature, and the whole plan of 
Providence from everlasting to everlasting. But it hath 
always been allowed to argue, from what is acknowledged, 
to what is disputed. And it is in no other sense a poor thing, 
to argue from natural religion to revealed, in the manner 
found fault with, than it is to argue in numberless other ways 
of probable deduction and inference, in matters of conduct, 
which we are continually reduced to the necessity of doing. 
Indeed the epithet poor may be applied, I fear as properly, 
to great part or the whole of human life, as it is to the things 
mentioned in the objection. Is it not a poor thing, for a 
physician to have so little knowledge in the cure of diseases, 
as even the most eminent have ? To act upon conjecture and 



chap. viii. of Nature to Religion . 255 

guess, where the life of man is concerned ? Undoubtedly it 
is : but not in comparison of having no skill at all in that 
useful art, and being obliged to act wholly in the dark. 

Further : since it is as unreasonable, as it is common, to 
urge objections against revelation, which are of equal weight 
against natural religion ; and those who do this, if they are 
not confused themselves, deal unfairly with others, in making 
it seem, that they are arguing only against revelation, or 
particular doctrines of it, when in reality tbey are arguing 
against moral providence ; it is a thing of consequence to 
shew, that such objections are as much levelled against na- 
tural religion, as against revealed. And objections, which 
are equally applicable to both, are properly speaking an- 
swered, by its being shewn thai they are so, provided the 
former be admitted to be true. And, without taking in the 
consideration how distinctly this is admitted, it is plainly 
very material to observe, that as the things objected against 
in natural religion are of the same kind with what is certain 
matter of experience in the course of providence, and in 
the information which God affords us concerning our tem- 
poral interest under his government; so the objections against 
the system of Christianity, and the evidence of it, are of the 
very same kind with those which are made against the system 
and evidence of natural religion. However, the reader upon 
review may see, that most of the analogies insisted upon, 
even in the latter part of this treatise, do not necessarily re- 
quire to have more taken for granted than is in the former ; 
that there is an Author of nature, or natural Governor of the 
world : and Christianity is vindicated, not from its analogy 
to natural religion, but chiefly from its analogy to the expe- 
rienced constitution of nature. 

Secondly, Religion is a practical thing, and consists in such 
a determinate course of life, as being what, there is reason to 
think, is commanded by the Author of nature, and will, upon 
the whole, be our happiness under his government. Now if 
men can be convinced, that they have the like reason to be- 
lieve this, as to believe that taking care of their temporal 
affairs will be to their advantage ; such conviction cannot 
but be an argument to them for the practice of religion. And 
if there be really any reason for believing one of these, and 
endeavouring to preserve life, and secure ourselves the neces- 
saries and conveniences of it; then there is reason also for 
believing the other, and endeavouring to secure the interest 



256 Objections against the Analogy part ir. 

it proposes to us. And if the interest, which religion pro- 
poses to us, be infinitely greater than our whole temporal in- 
terest ; then there must be proportionably greater reason for 
endeavouring to secure one, than the other ; since, by the 
supposition, the probability of our securing one is equal to 
the probability of our securing the other.; This seems plainly 
unanswerable ; and has a tendency to influence fair minds, 
who consider what our condition really is. or upon what evi- 
dence we are naturally appointed to act ; and who are dis- 
posed to acquiesce in the terms upon which we live, and 
attend to and follow that practical instruction, whatever it be, 
which is afforded us. 

But the chief and proper force of the argument referred 
to in the objection, lies in another place. For, it is said that 
the proof of religion is involved in such inextricable diffi- 
culties, as to render it doubtful ; and that it cannot be sup- 
posed, that, if it were true, it would be left upon doubtful 
evidence. Here then, over and above the force of each par- 
ticular difficulty or objection, these difficulties and objections 
taken together are turned into a positive argument against 
the truth of religion ; which argument would stand thus. If 
religion were true, it would not be left doubtful, and open to 
objections to the degree in which it is : therefore that it is 
thus left, not only renders the evidence of it weak, and lessens 
its force, in proportion to the weight of such objections ; but 
also shews it to be false, or is a general presumption of its 
being so. Now the observation, that, from the natural con- 
stitution and course of things, we must in our temporal con- 
cerns, almost continually, and in matters of great conse- 
quence, act upon evidence of a like kind and degree to the 
evidence of religion, is an answer to this argument; because 
it shews, that it is according to the conduct and character of 
the Author of nature to appoint we should act upon evidence 
like to that, which this argument presumes he cannot be 
supposed to appoint we should act upon : it is an instance, a 
general one made up of numerous particular ones, of some- 
what in his dealing with us, similar to what is said to be in- 
credible. And as the force of this answer lies merely in the 
parallel, which there is between the evidence for religion and 
for our temporal conduct ; the answer is equally just and 
conclusive, whether the parallel be made out, by shewing the 
evidence of the former to be higher, or the evidence of the 
latter to be lower. 



chap, vi 1 1 . of Nature to Religion. 25 7 

Thirdly r , The design of this treatise is not to vindicate the 
character of God, but to shew the obligations of men : it is 
not to justify his providence, but to shew what belongs to us 
to do. These are two subjects, and ought not to be con- 
founded. And thougii they may at length run up into each 
other, yet observations may immediately tend to make out 
the latter, which do not appear, by any immediate connexion, 
to the purpose of the former ; which is less our concern, than 
many seem to think. For, first, it is not necessary we should 
justify the dispensations of Providence against objections, 
any farther than to shew, that the things objected against 
may, for ought we know, be consistent with justice and good- 
ness. Suppose then, that there are things in the system of 
this world, and plan of Providence relating to it, which taken 
alone would be unjust : yet it has been shewn unanswerably, 
that if we could take in the reference, which these things 
may have to other things present, past, and to come ; to the 
whole scheme, which the things objected against are parts 
of; these very things might, for ought we know, be found to 
be, not only consistent with justice, but instances of it. In- 
deed it has been shewn, by the analogy of what we see, not 
only possible that this may be the case, but credible that it 
is. And thus objections, drawn from such things, are an- 
swered, and Providence is vindicated, as far as religion makes 
its vindication necessary. Hence it appears, secondly, that 
objections against the Divine justice and goodness are not 
endeavoured to be removed, by shewing that the like objec- 
tions, allowed to be really conclusive, lie against natural pro- 
vidence : but those objections being supposed and shewn 
not to be conclusive, the things objected against, considered 
as matters of fact, are farther shewn to be credible, from their 
conformity to the constitution of nature ; for instance, that 
God will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter, 
from the observation, that he does reward and punish them 
for their actions here. And this, I apprehend, is of weight. 
And I add, thirdly, it would be of weight, even though those 
objections were not answered. For, there being the proof 
of religion above set down ; and religion implying several 
facts ; for instance again, the fact last mentioned, that God 
will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter ; the 
observation, that his present method of government is by 
rewards and punishments, shews that future fact not to be 
incredible : whatever objections men may think they have 

R 



258 



Objections against the Analogy part ir. 



against it, as unjust or unmerciful, according to their notions 
of justice and mercy; or as improbable from their belief of 
necessity. I say, as improbable: for it is evident no objec- 
tion against \t,as unjust, can be urged from necessity; since 
this notion as much destroys injustice, as it does justice. 
Then, fourthly, Though objections against the reasonableness 
of the system of religion cannot indeed be answered without 
entering into consideration of its reasonableness; yet objec- 
tions against the credibility or truth of it may. Because the 
system of it is reducible into what is properly matter of fact : 
and the truth, the probable truth, of facts, may be shewn 
without consideration of their reasonableness. Nor is it 
necessary, though, in some cases and respects, it is highly 
useful and proper, yet it is not necessary, to give a proof of 
the reasonableness of every precept enjoined us, and of every 
particular dispensation of Providence, which comes into the 
system of religion. Indeed the more thoroughly a person of 
a right disposition is convinced of the perfection of the Divine 
nature and conduct, the farther he will advance towards that 
perfection of religion, which St. John* speaks of. But the 
general obligations of religion are fully made out, by proving 
the reasonableness of the practice of it. And that the prac- 
tice of religion is reasonable, maybe shewn, though no more 
could be proved, than that the system of it may be so, for 
ought we know to the contrary: and even without entering 
into the distinct consideration of this. And from hence, 
fifthly, it is easy to see, that though the analogy of nature 
is not an immediate answer to objections against the wis- 
dom, the justice, or goodness, of any doctrine or precept of 
religion ; yet it may be, as it is, an immediate and direct 
answer to what is really intended by such objections ; 
which is, to shew that the things objected against are in- 
credible. 

Fourthly \ It is most readily acknowledged, that the fore- 
going treatise is by no means satisfactory; very far indeed 
from it : but so would any natural institution of life appear, 
if reduced into a system, together with its evidence. Leaving 
religion out of the case, men are divided in their opinions, 
whether our pleasures overbalance our pains : and whether 
it be, or be not, eligible to live in this world. - And were all 
such controversies settled, which perhaps, in speculation, 
would be found involved in great difficulties ; and were it 

* 1 John iv. 18. 



CHAP. VIII. 



of Nature to Religion. 



259 



determined upon the evidence of reason, as nature has deter- 
mined it to our hands, that life is to be preserved : yet still, 
the rules which God has been pleased to afford us, for escap- 
ing the miseries of it, and obtaining its satisfactions, the rules, 
for instance, of preserving health, and recovering it when lost, 
are not only fallible and precarious, but very far from being 
exact. Nor are we informed by nature, in future contin- 
gencies and accidents, so as to render it at all certain, what is 
the best method of managing our affairs. What will be the 
success of our temporal pursuits, in the common sense of the 
word Success, is highly doubtful. And what will be the 
success of them in the proper sense of the word ; i. e. what 
happiness or enjoyment we shall obtain by them, is doubtful 
in a much higher degree. Indeed the unsatisfactory nature 
of the evidence, with which we are obliged to take up, in 
the daily course of life, is scarce to be expressed. Yet men 
do not throw away life, or disregard the interests of it, upon 
account of this doubtfulness. The evidence of religion then 
being admitted real, those who object against it, as not satis- 
factory, i. e. as not being what they wish it, plainly forget 
the very condition of our being : for satisfaction, in this sense, 
does not belong to such a creature as man. And, which is 
more material, they forget also the very nature of religion. 
For, religion presupposes, in all those who will embrace it, 
a certain degree of integrity and honesty ; which it was 
intended to try whether men have or not, and to exercise 
in such as have it, in order to its improvement. Religion 
presupposes this as much, and in the same sense, as speaking 
to a man presupposes he understands the language in which 
you speak ; or as warning a man of any danger presupposes 
that he hath such a regard to himself, as that he will endea- 
vour to avoid it. And therefore the question is not at all, 
Whether the evidence of religion be satisfactory ; but Whether 
it be, in reason, sufficient to prove and discipline that virtue, 
which it presupposes. Now the evidence of it is fully suffi- 
cient for all those purposes of probation ; how far soever it 
is from being satisfactory, as to the purposes of curiosity, or 
any other : and indeed it answers the purposes of the former 
in several respects, which it would not do, if it were as over- 
bearing as is required. One might add farther; that whether 
the motives or the evidence for any course of action be satis- 
factory, meaning here, by that word, what satisfies a man, 
that such a course of action will in event be for his good ; this 

B 2 



260 Objections against the Analogy part ii, 

need never be, and I think, strictly speaking, never is, the 
practical question in common matters. But the practical 
question in all cases is, Whether the evidence for a course 
of action be such, as, taking in all circumstances, makes the 
faculty within us, which is the guide and judge of conduct,* 
determine that course of action to be prudent) Indeed, satis- 
faction that it will be for our interest or happiness, abundantly 
determines an action to be prudent : but evidence almost 
infinitely lower than this, determines actions to be so too ; 
even in the conduct of every day. 

Fifthly, As to the objection concerning the influence which 
this argument, or any part of it, may, or may not be expected 
to have upon men ; I observe, as above, that religion being- 
intended for a trial and exercise of the morality of every 
person's character, who is a subject of it ; and there being, 
as I have shewn, such evidence for it, as is sufficient, in rea- 
son, to influence men to embrace it : to object, that it is not 
to be imagined mankind will be influenced by such evidence, 
is nothing to the purpose of the foregoing treatise. : For the 
purpose of it is not to inquire, what sort of creatures mankind 
are ; but what the light and knowledge, which is afforded 
them, requires they should be : to shew how, in reason, they 
ought to behave ; not how, in fact, they will behave. / This 
depends upon themselves, and is their own concern ; the 
personal concern of each man in particular. And how little 
regard the generality have to it, experience indeed does too 
fully shew. But religion, considered as a probation, has 
had its end upon all persons, to whom it has been proposed 
with evidence sufficient in reason to influence their practice : 
for by this means they have been put into a state of proba- 
tion ; let them behave as they will in it. And thus, not only 
revelation, but reason also, teaches us, that by the evidence 
of religion being laid before men, the designs of Providence 
are carrying on, not only with regard to those who will, but 
likewise with regard to those who will not, be influenced by 
it. However, lastly, the objection here referred to, allows 
the things insisted upon in this treatise to be of some weight ; 
and if so, it may be hoped it will have some influence. And 
if there be a probability that it will have any at all, there is 
the same reason in kind, though not in degree, to lay it before 
men, as there would be, if it were likely to have a greater 
influence. 

* See Dissert. II. 



chap. viii. of Nat Li re to Religion . 



261 



And farther, I desire it may be considered, with respect 
to the whole of the foregoing objections, that in this treatise 
I have argued upon the principles of others,* not my own : 
and have omitted what I think true, and of the utmost im- 
portance, because by others thought unintelligible, or not 
true. Thus I have argued upon the principles of the Fatal- 
ists, which I do not believe : and have omitted a thing of 
the utmost importance which I do believe, the moral fitness 
and unfitness of actions, prior to all will whatever ; which I 
apprehend as certainly to determine the Divine conduct, as 
speculative truth and falsehood necessarily determine the 
Divine judgment. Indeed the principle of liberty, and that 
of moral fitness, so force themselves upon the mind, that 
moralists, the ancients as well as moderns, have formed their 
language upon it. And probably it may appear in mine : 
though I have endeavoured to avoid it ; and, in order to 
avoid it, have sometimes been obliged to express myself in a 
manner, which will appear strange to such as do not observe 
the reason for it : but the general argument here pursued 
does not at all suppose, or proceed upon these principles. 
Now, these two abstract principles of liberty and moral fit- 
ness being omitted, religion can be considered in no other 
view, than merely as a question of fact : and in this view it 
is here considered. It is obvious, that Christianity, and the 
proof of it, are both historical. And even natural religion 
is, properly, a matter of fact. For, that there is a righteous 
Governor of the world, is so : and this proposition contains 
the general system of natural religion. But then, several 
abstract truths, and in particular those two principles, are 
usually taken into consideration in the proof of it : whereas 
it is here treated of only as a matter of fact. To explain 
this : that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two 
right ones, is an abstract truth : but that they appear so to 
our mind, is only a matter of fact. And this last must have 
been admitted, if any thing was, by those ancient sceptics, 
who would not have admitted the former : but pretended to 
doubt, Whether there were any such thing as truth, or 
Whether we could certainly depend upon our faculties of 

* By arguing upon the principles of others, the reader will observe is 
meant, not proving any thing; from those principles, but notwithstanding 
them. Thus religion is proved, not from the opinion of necessity ; which 
is absurd: but, notwithstanding or even though that opinion were admitted 
to be true. 



262 Objections against the Analogy, 8$c. part ii. 

understanding for the knowledge of it in any case. So like- 
wise, that there is, in the nature of things, an original 
standard of right and wrong in actions, independent upon all 
will, but which unalterably determines the will of God, to 
exercise that moral government over the world, which reli- 
gion teaches, i. e. finally and upon the whole to reward and 
punish men respectively as they act right or wrong ; this 
assertion contains an abstract truth, as well as matter of fact. 
But suppose, in the present state, every man, without excep- 
tion, was rewarded and punished, in exact proportion as he 
followed or transgressed that sense of right and wrong, 
which God has implanted in the nature of every man : this 
would not be at all an abstract truth, but only a matter of 
fact. And though this fact were acknowledged by every 
one ; yet the very same difficulties might be raised as are 
now, concerning the abstract questions of liberty and moral 
fitness : and we should have a proof, even the certain one of 
experience, that the government of the world was perfectly 
moral, without taking in the consideration of those questions : 
and this proof would remain, in what way soever they were 
determined. And thus, God having given mankind a moral 
faculty, the object of which is actions, and which naturally 
approves some actions as right, and of good desert, and con- 
demns others as wrong, and of ill desert ; that he will, finally 
and upon the whole, reward the former and punish the latter, 
is not an assertion of an abstract truth, but of what is as mere 
a fact, as his doing so at present would be. This future fact I 
have, not indeed proved with the force with which it might 
be proved, from the principles of liberty and moral fitness ; 
but without them have, given a really conclusive practical 
proof of it, which is greatly strengthened by the general 
analogy of nature: a proof easily cavilled at, easily shewn not 
to be demonstrative, for it is not offered as such ; but impos- 
sible, I think, to be evaded, or answered. And thus the 
obligations of religion are made out, exclusively of the ques- 
tions concerning liberty and moral fitness ; which have been 
perplexed with difficulties and abstruse reasonings, as every 
thing may. 

Hence therefore may be observed distinctly, what is the 
force of this treatise. It will be, to such as are convinced of 
religion upon the proof arising out of the two last-mentioned 
principles, an additional proof and a confirmation of it : to 
such as do not admit those principles, an original proof of 



part ii. Conclusion. 263 

it,* and a confirmation of that proof. Those who believe 
will here find the scheme of Christianity cleared of objec- 
tions, and the evidence of it in a peculiar manner strength- 
I ened : those who do not believe will at least be shewn the 
absurdity of all attempts to prove Christianity false, the plain 
undoubted credibility of it ; and, 1 hope, a good deal more. 

And thus, though some perhaps may seriously think, that 
analogy, as here urged, has too great stress laid upon it ; and 
ridicule, unanswerable ridicule, may be applied, to shew the 
argument from it in a disadvantageous light : yet there can 
be no question, but that it is a real one. For religion, both 
natural and revealed, implying in it numerous facts ; analogy, 
being a confirmation of all facts to which it can be applied, 
as it is the only proof of most, cannot but be admitted by every 
one to be a material thing, and truly of weight on the side of 
religion, both natural and revealed : and it ought to be par- 
ticularly regarded by such as profess to follow nature, and to 
be less satisfied with abstract reasonings. 

CONCLUSION. 

Whatever account may be given of the strange inattention 
and disregard, in some ages and countries, to a matter of such 
importance as Religion ; it would, before experience, be in- 
credible, that there should be the like disregard in those, who 
have had the moral system of the world laid before them, as 
it is by Christianity, and often inculcated upon them : because 
this moral system carries in it a good degree of evidence for 
its truth, upon its being barely proposed to our thoughts. 
There is no need of abstruse reasonings and distinctions, to 
convince an unprejudiced understanding, that there is a God 
who made and governs the world, and will judge it in righ- 
teousness : though they may be necessary to answer abstruse 
difficulties, when once such are raised : when the very mean- 
ing of those words, which express most intelligibly the ge- 
neral doctrine of religion, is pretended to be uncertain ; and 
the clear truth of the thing itself is obscured by the intricacies 
of speculation. But to an unprejudiced mind, ten thousand 
thousand instances of design cannot but prove a designer. 
And it is intuitively manifest, that creatures ought to live 
under a dutiful sense of their Maker ; and that justice and 

* P. 134, &c. 



264 



Conclusion. 



PART II. 



charity must be his laws, to creatures whom he has made so- 
cial, and placed in society. Indeed the truth of revealed 
religion, peculiarly so called, is not self-evident, but requires 
external proof, in order to its being received. Yet inatten- 
tion, among us, to revealed religion, will be found to imply 
the same dissolute immoral temper of mind, as inattention to 
natural religion : because, when both are laid before us, in 
the manner they are in Christian countries of liberty, our 
obligations to inquire into both, and to embrace both upon 
supposition of their truth, are obligations of the same nature. 
For, revelation claims to be the voice of God : and our obli- 
gation to attend to his voice is surely moral in all cases. And 
as it is insisted, that its evidence is conclusive, upon thorough 
consideration of it ; so it offers itself to us with manifest ob- 
vious appearances of having something more than human in 
it, and therefore in all reason requires to have its claims most 
seriously examined into. It is to be added, that though light 
and knowledge, in what manner soever afforded us, is equally 
from God ; yet a miraculous revelation has a peculiartendency, 
from the first principles of our nature, to awaken mankind, 
and inspire them with reverence and awe : and this is a pe- 
culiar obligation, to attend to what claims to be so with such 
appearances of truth. It is therefore most certain, that our 
obligations to inquire seriously into the evidence of Chris- 
tianity, and, upon supposition of its truth, to embrace it, are 
of the utmost importance, and moral in the highest and most 
proper sense. Let us then suppose, that the evidence of reli- 
gion in general, and of Christianity, has been seriously in- 
quired into, by all reasonable men among us. Yet we find 
many professedly to reject both, upon speculative principles 
of infidelity. And all of them do not content themselves with 
a bare neglect of religion, and enjoying their imaginary free- 
dom from its restraints. Some go much beyond this. They 
deride God's moral government over the world, They re- 
nounce his protection, and defy his justice. They ridicule 
and vilify Christianity, and blaspheme the Author of it; and 
take all occasions to manifest a scorn and contempt of reve- 
lation. This amounts to an active setting themselves against 
religion ; to what may be considered as a positive principle 
of irreligion : which they cultivate within themselves, and, 
whether they intend this effect or not, render habitual, as a 
good man does the contrary principle. And others, who are 
not chargeable with all this profligateness, yet are in avowed 



PA 11 T II. 



Conclusion, 



265 



opposition to religion, as if discovered to be groundless. Now 
admitting, which is the supposition we go upon, that these 
persons act upon what they think principles of reason, and 
otherwise they are not to be argued with ; it is really incon- 
ceivable, that they should imagine they clearly see the whole 
evidence of it, considered in itself, to be nothing at all : nor 
do they pretend this. They are far indeed from having a 
just notion of its evidence : but they would not say its evi- 
dence was nothing, if they thought the system of it, with all 
its circumstances, were credible, like other matters of science 
or history. So their manner of treating it must proceed, either 
from such kind of objections against all religion, as have 
been answered or obviated in the former part of this treatise; 
or else from objections, and difficulties, supposed more pecu- 
liar to Christianity. Thus, they entertain prejudices against 
the whole notion of a revelation, and miraculous interposi- 
tions. They find things in Scripture, whether in incidental 
passages, or in the general scheme of it, which appear to them 
unreasonable. They take for granted, that if Christianity 
were true, the light of it must have been more general, and the 
evidence of it more satisfactory, or rather overbearing: that 
it must and would have been, in some way, otherwise put and 
left, than it is. Now this is not imagining they see the evi- 
dence itself to be nothing, or inconsiderable; but quite an- 
other thing". It is being fortified against the evidence, in 
some degree acknowledged, by thinking they see the system < 
of Christianity, or somewhat which appears to them neces- 
sarily connected with it, to be incredible or false ; fortified 
against that evidence, which might, otherwise, make great 
impression upon them. Or, lastly, if any of these persons 
are, upon the whole, in doubt concerning the truth of Chris- 
tianity ; their behaviour seems owing to their taking for 
granted, through strange inattention, that such doubting is, 
in a manner, the^same thing, as being certain against it. 

To these persons, and to this state of opinion concerning 
religion, the foregoing treatise is adapted. For, all the ge- 
neral objections against the moral system of nature having 
been obviated, it is shewn, that there is not any peculiar pre- 
sumption at all against Christianity, either considered as not 
discoverable by reason, or as unlike to what is so discovered ; 
nor any worth mentioning against it as miraculous, if any at 
all; none, certainly, which can render it in the least incredi- 
ble. It is shewn, that, upon supposition of a divine revela- 



266 



Conclusion. 



PART II. 



tion, the analogy of nature renders it beforehand highly cre- 
dible, I think probable, that many things in it must appear 
liable to great objections ; and that we must be incompetent 
judges of it, to a great degree. This observation is, I think, 
unquestionably true, and of the very utmost importance : but 
it is urged, as I hope it will be understood, with great cau- 
tion of not vilifying the faculty of reason, which is the candle 
of the Lord within us ;* though it can afford no light, where 
it does not shine ; nor judge, where it has no principles to 
judge upon. The objections here spoken of, being first an- 
swered in the view of objections against Christianity as a mat- 
ter of fact, are in the next place considered as urged more 
immediately against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the 
Christian dispensation. And it is fully made out, that they 
admit of exactly the like answer, in every respect, to what the 
like objections against the constitution of nature admit of : 
that, as partial views give the appearance of wrong to things, 
which, upon farther consideration and knowledge of their 
relations to other things, are found just and good ; so it is 
perfectly credible, that the things objected against the wis- 
dom and goodness of the Christian dispensation, may be ren- 
dered instances of wisdom and goodness, by their reference 
to other things beyond our view : because Christianity is a 
scheme as much above our comprehension, as that of nature; 
and like that, a scheme in which means are made use of to 
accomplish ends, and which, as is most credible, maybe car- 
ried on by general laws. And it ought to be attended to, 
that this is not an answer taken merely or chiefly from our 
ignorance ; but from somewhat positive, which our observa- 
tion shews us. For, to like objections, the like answer is 
experienced to be just, in numberless parallel cases. The ob- 
jections against the Christian dispensation, and the method 
by which it is carried on, having been thus obviated, in ge- 
neral and together ; the chief of them are considered dis- 
tinctly, and the particular things objected to are shewn cre- 
dible, by their perfect analogy, each apart, to the constitution 
of nature. Thus, if man be fallen from his primitive state, 
and to be restored, and infinite wisdom and power engages 
in accomplishing our recovery : it were to have been expect- 
ed, it is said, thatthis should have been effected at once ; and 
not by such a long series of means, and such a various eco- 
nomy of persons and things ; one dispensation preparatory to 

* Prov. xx. 27. 



PART II. 



Conclusion. 



267 



another, this to a farther one, and so on through an indefinite 
number of ages, before the end of the scheme proposed can 
be completely accomplished ; a scheme conducted by infinite 
wisdom, and executed by almighty power. But now, on the 
contrary, our finding that every thing in the constitution and 
course of nature is thus carried on, shews such expectations 
concerning revelation to be highly unreasonable; and is a 
satisfactory answer to them, when urged as objections against 
the credibility, that the great scheme of Providence in the 
redemption of the world may be of this kind, and to be ac- 
complished in this manner. As to the particular method of our 
redemption, the appointment of a Mediator between God and 
man : this has been shewn to be most obviously analogous 
to the general conduct of nature, i. e. the God of nature, in 
appointing others to be the instruments of his mercy, as we 
experience in the daily course of providence. The condition 
of this world, which the doctrine of our redemption by Christ 
presupposes, so much falls in with natural appearances, that 
heathen moralists inferred it from those appearances : inferred, 
that human nature was fallen from its original rectitude, and, 
in consequence of this, degraded from its primitive happi- 
ness. Or, however this opinion came into the world, these 
appearances must have kept up the tradition, and confirmed 
the belief of it. And as it was the general opinion under the 
light of nature, that repentance and reformation, alone and by 
itself, was not sufficient to do away sin, and procure a full 
remission of the penalties annexed to it ; and as the reason of 
the thing does not at all lead to any such conclusion ; so 
every day's experience shews us, that reformation is not, in 
any sort, sufficient to prevent the present disadvantages and 
miseries, which, in the natural course of things, God has an- 
nexed to folly and extravagance. Yet there may be ground 
to think, that the punishments, which, by the general laws of 
divine government, are annexed to vice, may be prevented : 
that provision may have been, even originally, made, that 
they should be prevented by some means or other, though 
they could not by reformation alone. For we have daily in- 
stances of such mercy, in the general conduct of nature : 
compassion provided for misery,* medicines for diseases, 
friends against enemies. There is provision made, in the 
original constitution of the world, that much of the natural 
bad consequences of our follies, which persons themselves 
* Serra. at the Rolls, p. 106. 



268 



Conclusion. 



PART II. 



alone cannot prevent, may be prevented by the assistance of 
others ; assistance, which nature enables, and disposes, and 
appoints them to afford. By a method of goodness analogous 
to this, when the world lay in wickedness, and consequently 
in ruin, God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten 
S071 to save it: and he being made perfect by suffering, became 
the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him* In- 
deed neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in 
particular, that the interposition of Christ, in the manner in 
which he did interpose, would be of that efficacy for recovery 
of the world, which the Scripture teaches us it was : but 
neither would reason nor analogy lead us to think, that other 
particular means would be of the efficacy, which experience 
shews they are, in numberless instances. And therefore, as 
the case before us does not admit of experience ; so, that nei- 
ther reason nor analogy can shew how, or in what particular 
way, the interposition of Christ, as revealed in Scripture, is 
of that efficacy, which it is there represented to be ; this is 
no kind nor degree of presumption against its being really 
of that efficacy. Farther: the objections against Christi- 
anity, from the light of it not being universal, nor its evidence 
so strong as might possibly be given us, have been answered 
by the general analogy of nature. That God has made such 
variety of creatures, is indeed an answer to the former : but 
that he dispenses his gifts in such variety, both of degrees 
and kinds, amongst creatures of the same species, and even 
to the same individuals at different times; is a more obvious 
and full answer to it. And it is so far from being the method 
of Providence in other cases, to afford us such overbearing 
evidence, as some require in proof of Christianity ; that, on 
the contrary, the evidence upon which we are naturally ap- 
pointed to act in common matters, throughout a very great 
part of life, is doubtful in a high degree. And admitting the 
fact, that God has afforded to some no more than doubtful 
evidence of religion ; the same account may be given of it, 
as of difficulties and temptations with regard to practice. 
But as it is not impossible,^ surely, that this alleged doubt- 
fulness may be men's own fault ; it deserves their most serious 
consideration, whether it be not so. However, it is certain, 
that doubting implies a degree of evidence for that of which 
we doubt: and that this degree of evidence as really lays us 
under obligations, as demonstrative evidence. 

* Jofcn iit. 16. Heb.v. 9. t P. 21 9, &c. 



PART II. 



Conclusion. 



269 



The whole then of religion is throughout credible : nor is 
there, I think, any thing relating to the revealed dispensa- 
tion of things, more different from the experienced consti- 
tution and course of nature, than some parts of the constitu- 
tion of nature are from other parts of it. And if so, the 
only question which remains is, what positive evidence can 
be alleged for the truth of Christianity. This too in general 
has been considered, and the objections against it estimated. 
Deduct, therefore, what is to be deducted from that evi- 
dence, upon account of any weight which may be thought 
to remain in these objections, after what the analogy of na- 
ture has suggested in. answer to them : and then consider, 
what are the practical consequences from all this, upon the 
most sceptical principles one can argue upon (for I am writ- 
ing to persons who entertain these principles) : and upon 
such consideration it will be obvious, that immorality, as 
little excuse as it admits of in itself, is greatly aggravated, 
in persons who have been made acquainted with Chris- 
tianity, whether they believe it or not : because the moral 
system of nature, or natural religion, which Christianity lays 
before us, approves itself, almost intuitively, to a reasonable 
mind, upon seeing it proposed. In the next place, with 
regard to Christianity, it will be observed ; that there is a 
middle between a full satisfaction of the truth of it, and a 
satisfaction of the contrary. The middle state of mind be- 
tween these two consists in a serious apprehension, that it 
maybe true, joined with doubt whether it be so. And this, 
upon the best judgment I am able to make, is as far towards 
speculative infidelity, as any sceptic can at all be supposed 
to go, who has had true Christianity, with the proper evi- 
dence of it, laid before him, and has in any tolerable mea- 
sure considered them. For I would not be mistaken to com- 
prehend all who have ever heard of it : because it seems 
evident, that in many countries called Christian, neither 
Christianity, nor its evidence, are fairly laid before men. 
And in places where both are, there appear to be some, 
who have very little attended to either, and who reject 
Christianity with a scorn proportionate to their inattention ; 
and yet are by no means without understanding in other 
matters. ' Now it has been shewn, that a serious apprehen- 
sion that Christianity may be true, lays persons under the 
strictest obligations of a serious regard to it, throughout the 
whole of their life : a regard not the same exactly, but in 



270 



Conclusion. 



PART II. 



many respects nearly the same, with what a full conviction 
of its truth would lay them under. Lastly, it will appear, 
that blasphemy and profaneness, I mean with regard to 
Christianity, are absolutely without excuse. For there is 
no temptation to it, but from the wantonness of vanity or 
mirth : and these, considering the infinite importance of the 
subject, are no such temptations as to afford any excuse for 
it. If this be a just account of things, and yet men can go 
on to vilify or disregard Christianity, which is to talk and 
act as if they had a demonstration of its falsehood ; there is 
no reason to think they would alter their behaviour to any 
purpose, though there were a demonstration of its truth. 



END OF THE SECOND PART. 



TWO BRIEF 

DISSERTATIONS. 



I. OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 
II. OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



In the first copy of these Papers, I had inserted the two 
following Dissertations into the Chapters, "Of a Future Life/' 
and, " Of the Moral Government of God ;" with which they 
are closely connected. But as they do not directly fall under 
the title of the foregoing Treatise, and would have kept 
the subject of it too long out of sight ; it seemed more proper 
to place them by themselves. 



DISSERTATION I. 



Of Per sorted Identity, 

Whether we are to live in a future state, as it is the most 
important question which can possibly be asked, so it is the 
most intelligible one which can be expressed in language. 
Yet strange perplexities have been raised about the meaning 
of that identity or sameness of person, which is implied in 
the notion of our living now and hereafter, or in any two 
successive moments. And the solution of these difficulties 
hath been stranger than the difficulties themselves. For, 
personal identity has been explained so by some, as to ren- 
der the inquiry concerning a future life of no consequence 
at all to us the persons who are making it. And though 
few men can be misled by such subtleties ; yet it may be 
proper a little to consider them. 

Now when it is asked, wherein personal identity consists, 
the answer should be the same, as if it were asked, wherein 
consists similitude, or equality ; that all attempts to define 
would but perplex it. Yet there is no difficulty at all in 
ascertaining the idea. For as, upon two triangles being 
compared or viewed together, there arises to the mind the 
idea of similitude ; or upon twice two and four, the idea of 
equality : so likewise, upon comparing the consciousness of 
one's self, or one's own existence, in any two moments, there 
as immediately arises to the mind the idea of personal 
identity. And as the two former comparisons not only give 
us the ideas of similitude and equality ; but also shew us, 
that two triangles are alike, and twice two and four are 
equal : so the latter comparison not only gives us the idea 
of personal identity, but also shews us the identity of our- 
selves in those two moments ; the present, suppose, and that 
immediately past; or the present, and that a month, a year, 
or twenty years past. Or in other words, by reflecting 
upon that, which is myself now, and that, which was myself 
twenty years ago, I discern they are not two, but one and 
the same self. 

But though consciousness of what is past does thus ascer- 
tain our personal identity to ourselves, yet to say, that it 

s 



274 



Of Personal Identity. 



DISS. I. 



makes personal identity, or is necessary to our being the 
same persons, is to say, that a person has not existed a 
single moment, nor done one action, but what he can re- 
member ; indeed none but what he reflects upon. And one 
should really think it self-evident, that consciousness of per- 
sonal identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, 
personal identity ; any more than knowledge, in any other 
case, can constitute truth, which it presupposes. 

This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from 
hence; that to be endued with consciousness is inseparable 
from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For, this 
might be expressed inaccurately thus, that consciousness 
makes personality : and from hence it might be concluded to 
make personal identity. But though present consciousness 
of what we at present do and feel is necessary to our being 
the persons we now are; yet present consciousness of past 
actions or feelings is not necessary to our being the same per- 
sons who performed those actions, or had those feelings. 

The inquiry, what makes vegetables the same in the com- 
mon acceptation of the word, does not appear to have any 
relation to this of personal identity: because, the word same, 
when applied to them and to person, is not only applied to 
different subjects, but it is also used in different senses. For 
when a man swears to the same tree, as having stood fifty 
years in the same place, he means only the same as to all the 
purposes of property and uses of common life, and not that 
the tree has been all that time the same in the strict philoso- 
phical sense of the word. For he does not know, whether 
any one particle of the present tree be the same with any one 
particle of the tree which stood in the same place fifty years 
ago. And if they have not one common particle of matter, 
they cannot be the same tree in the proper philosophic sense 
of the word same: it being evidently a contradiction in 
terms, to say they are, when no part of their substance, and 
no one of their properties is the same : no part of their sub- 
stance, by the supposition; no one of their properties, be- 
cause it is allowed, that the same property cannot be trans- 
ferred from one substance to another. And therefore when 
we say the identity or sameness of a plant consists in a con- 
tinuation of the same life, communicated under the same 
organization, to a number of particles of matter, whether the 
same or not ; the word same, when applied to life and to orga- 
nization, cannot possibly be understood to signify, what it 



diss. r. 



Of Personal Identity. 275 



signifies in this very sentence, when applied to matter. In a 
loose and popular sense then, the life and the organization 
and the plant are justly said to be the same, notwithstand- 
ing the perpetual change of the parts. But in a strict and 
philosophical manner of speech, no man, no being, no mode 
of being, no any-thing, can be the same with that, with which 
it has indeed nothing the same. Now sameness is used in 
this latter sense, when applied to persons. The identity of 
these, therefore, cannot subsist with diversity of substance. 

The thing here considered, and demonstratively, as I think, 
determined, is proposed by Mr. Locke in these words, Whe- 
ther it, i. e. the same self or person, be the same identical sub- 
stance? And he has suggested what is a much better answer 
to the question, than that which he gives it in form. For he 
defines Person, a thinking intelligent being, &c. and personal 
identity, the sameness of a rational Being.* The question 
then is, whether the same rational being is the same sub- 
stance: which needs no answer, because Being and Sub- 
stance, in this place, stand for the same idea. The ground 
of the doubt, whether the same person be the same substance, 
is said to be this; that the consciousness of our own exist- 
ence, in youth and in old age, or in any two joint successive 
moments, is not the same individual action,^ i.e. not the same 
consciousness, but different successive consciousnesses. Now 
it is strange that this should have occasioned such perplexi- 
ties. For it is surely conceivable, that a person may have a 
capacity of knowing some object or other to be the same now, 
which it was when he contemplated it formerly : yet in this 
case, where, by the supposition, the object is perceived to be 
the same, the perception of it in any two moments cannot be 
one and the same perception. And thus though the succes- 
sive consciousnesses, which we have of our own existence, are 
not the same, yet are they consciousnesses of one and the 
same thing or object; of the same person, self, or living agent. 
The person, of whose existence the consciousness is felt now, 
and was felt an hour or a year ago, is discerned to be, not two 
persons, but one and the same person ; and therefore is one 
and the same. 

Mr. Locke's observations upon this subject appear hasty: 
and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied with suppositions, 
which he has made relating to it. J But some of those hasty 

Locke's Works, vol. i. p. 146. t Locke, p. 146, 147. 

X Locke, p. 152. 
s 2 



276 



Of Personal Identity. 



DISS. I. 



observations have been carried to a strange length by others ; 
whose notion, when traced and examined to the bottom, 
amounts, I think, to this :* " That Personality is not a perma- 
nent, but a transient thing : that it lives and dies, begins and 
ends continually : that no one can any more remain one and 
the same person two moments together, than two successive 
moments can be one and the same moment : that our substance 
is indeed continually changing; but whether this be so or not, 
is, it seems, nothing to the purpose; since it is not substance, 
but consciousness alone, which constitutes personality : which 
consciousness, being successive, cannot be the same in any 
two moments, nor consequently the personality constituted 
by it." And from hence it must follow, that it is a fallacy 
upon ourselves, to charge our present selves with any thing 
we did, or to imagine our present selves interested in any 
thing which befell us yesterday; or that our present self will 
be interested in what will befall us to-morrow : since our pre- 
sent self is not, in reality, the same with the self of yesterday, 
but another like self or person coming in its room, and mis- 
taken for it; to which another self will succeed to-morrow. 
This, I say, must follow : for if the self or person of to-day, 
and that of to-morrow, are not the same, but only like persons; 
the person of to-day is really no more interested in what will 
befall the person of to-morrow, than in what will befall any 
other person. It may be thought, perhaps, that this is not a 
just representation of the opinion we are speaking of: because 
those who maintain it allow, that a person is the same as far 
back as his remembrance reaches. And indeed they do use 
the words, identity and same person. Nor will language per- 
mit these words to be laid aside; since if they were, there 
must be I know not what ridiculous periphrasis substituted 
in the room of them. But they cannot, consistently with 
themselves, mean, that the person is really the same. For it 
is self-evident, that the personality cannot be really the same, 
if, as they expressly assert, that in which it consists is not the 
same. And as, consistently with themselves, they cannot, so, 
I think it appears, they do not, mean, that the person is really 
the same, but only that he is so in a fictitious sense: in such 
a sense only as they assert, for this they do assert, that any 
number of persons whatever may be the same person. The 
bare unfolding this notion, and laying it thus naked and 

* See an Answer to Dr. Clarke's Third Defence of his Letter to Mr, 
Dodwell, 2d edit. p. 44, 56, &c. 



DISS. I. 



Of Personal Identity. 



277 



open, seems the best confutation of it. However, since great 
stress is said to be put upon it, I add the following things. 

First, This notion is absolutely contradictory to that cer- 
tain conviction, which necessarily and every moment rises 
within us, when we turn our thoughts upon ourselves, when 
we reflect upon what is past, and look forward upon what is 
to come. All imagination of a daily change of that living 
agent which each man calls himself, for another, or of any 
such change throughout our whole present life, is entirely 
borne down by our natural sense of things. Nor is it possible 
for a person in his wits to alter his conduct, with regard to 
his health or affairs, from a suspicion, that, though he should 
live to-morrow, he should not, however, be the same person 
he is to-day. And yet, if it be reasonable to act, with respect 
to a future life, upon this notion, that personality is transient; 
it is reasonable to act upon it, with respect to the present. 
Here then is a notion equally applicable to religion and to 
our temporal concerns ; and every one sees and feels the in- 
expressible absurdity of it in the latter case; if, therefore, any 
can take up with it in the former, this cannot proceed from 
the reason of the thing 1 , but must be owing to an inward un- 
fairness, and secret corruption of heart. 

Secondly, It is not an idea, or abstract notion, or quality, 
but a being only, which is capable of life and action, of hap- 
piness and misery. Now all beings confessedly continue the 
same, during the whole time of their existence. Consider 
then a living being now existing, and which has existed for 
any time alive : this living being must have done and suffered 
and enjoyed, what it has done and suffered and enjoyed for- 
merly (this living being, I say, and not another), as really 
as it does and suffers and enjoys, what it does and suffers 
and enjoys this instant. All these successive actions, enjoy- 
ments, and sufferings, are actions, enjoyments, and sufferings, 
of the same living being. And they are so, prior to all con- 
sideration of its remembering or forgetting : since remem- 
benng or forgetting can make no alteration in the truth of 
past matter of fact. And suppose this being endued with 
limited powers of knowledge and memory, there is no more 
difficulty in conceiving it to have a power of knowing itself 
to be the same living being which it was some time ago, of 
remembering some of its actions, sufferings, and enjoyments, 
and forgetting others, than in conceiving it to know or 
remember or forget any thing else. 



278 Of Personal Identity. diss. i. 

Thirdly, Every person is conscious, that he is now the 
same person or self he was as far back as his remembrance 
reaches : since when any one reflects upon a past action of 
his own, he is just as certain of the person who did that 
action, namely, himself, the person who now reflects upon it, 
as he is certain that the action was at all done. Nay, very 
often a person's assurance of an action having been done, of 
which he is absolutely assured, arises wholly from the con- 
sciousness that he himself did it. And this he, person, or 
self, must either be a substance, or the property of some 
substance. If he, if person, be a substance ; then conscious- 
ness that he is the same person is consciousness that he is 
the same substance. If the person, or he, be the property of 
a substance, still consciousness that he is the same property 
is as certain a proof that his substance remains the same, as 
consciousness that he remains the same substance would be: 
since the same property cannot be transferred from one sub- 
stance to another. 

But though we are thus certain, that we are the same 
agents, living beings, or substances, now, which we were as 
far back as our remembrance reaches ; yet it is asked, whe- 
ther we may not possibly be deceived in it? And this ques- 
tion may be asked at the end of any demonstration whatever: 
because it is a question concerning the truth of perception 
by memory. And he who can doubt, whether perception 
by memory can in this case be depended upon, may doubt 
also, whether perception by deduction and reasoning, which 
also include memory, or indeed whether intuitive perception 
can. Here then we go no farther. For it is ridiculous to 
attempt to prove the truth of those perceptions, whose truth 
we can no otherwise prove, than by other perceptions of 
exactly the same kind with them, and which there is just the 
same ground to suspect; or to attempt to prove the truth of 
our faculties, which can no otherwise be proved, than by the 
use or means of those very suspected faculties themselves. 



279 



DISSERTATION II. 

Of the Nature of Virtue. 

That which renders beings capable of moral government, 
is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties of percep- 
tion and of action. Brute creatures are impressed and 
actuated by various instincts and propensions : so also are 
we. But additional to this, we have a capacity of reflecting 
upon actions and characters, and making them an object to 
our thought : and on doing this, we naturally and unavoid- 
ably approve some actions, under the peculiar view of their 
being virtuous and of good desert ; and disapprove others, 
as vicious and of ill desert. That we have this moral ap- 
proving and disapproving^ faculty, is certain from our expe- 
riencing it in ourselves, and recognizing it in each other. It 
appears from our exercising it unavoidably, in the approbation 
and disapprobation even of feigned characters : from the 
words, right and wrong, odious and amiable, base and wor- 
thy, with many others of like signification in all languages, 
applied to actions and characters : from the many written 
systems of morals which suppose it ; since it cannot be 
imagined, that all these authors, throughout all these trea- 
tises, had absolutely no meaning at all to their words, or a 
meaning merely chimerical : from our natural sense of grati- 
tude, which implies a distinction between merely being the 
instrument of good, and intending it : from the like distinc- 
tion, every one makes, between injury and mere harm, which, 
Hobbes says, is peculiar to mankind; and between injury 
and just punishment, a distinction plainly natural, prior to 
the consideration of human laws. It is manifest great part 

* This way of speaking is taken from Epictetus,f and is made use of 
as seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty 
may be understood to have these two epithets, SoKifxaaTiKri and cltto^okl- 
fictffTiicrj, upon a double account; because, upon a survey of actions, whe- 
ther before or after they are done, it determines them to be good or evil ; 
and also because it determines itself to be the guide of action and of life, 
in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural principles of action; 
in the very same manner as speculative reason directly and naturally judges 
of speculative truth and falsehood ; and at the same time is attended with 
a consciousness upon reflection, that the natural right to judge of them 
belongs to it. 

+ Arr. Epict. lib. i. cap. I. 



280 



Of the Nature of Virtue. 



DISS. II. 



of common language, and of common behaviour over the 
world, is formed upon supposition of such a moral faculty ; 
whether called conscience, moral reason, moral sense, or 
divine reason ; whether considered as a sentiment of the 
understanding, or as a perception of the heart; or, which 
seems the truth, as including both. Nor is it at all doubtful 
in the general, what course of action this faculty, or practical 
discerning power within us, approves, and what it disap- 
proves. For, as much as it has been disputed wherein virtue 
consists, or whatever ground for doubt there may be about 
particulars ; yet, in general, there is in reality a universally 
acknowledged standard of it. It is that, which all ages and 
all countries have made profession of in public : it is that, 
which every man you meet puts on the show of: it is that, 
which the primary and fundamental laws of all civil consti- 
tutions over the face of the earth make it their business and 
endeavour to enforce the practice of upon mankind : namely, 
justice, veracity, and regard to common good. It being 
manifest then, in general, that we have such a faculty or 
discernment as this, it may be of use to remark some things 
more distinctly concerning it. 

First, It ought to be observed, that the object of this 
faculty is actions,^ comprehending under that name active 
or practical principles : those principles from which men 
would act, if occasions and circumstances gave them power ; 
and which, when fixed and habitual in any person, we call 
his character. It does not appear, that brutes have the least 
reflex sense of actions, as distinguished from events : or that 
will and design, which constitute the very nature of actions 
as such, are at all an. object to their perception. But to 
ours they are : and they are the object, and the only one, 
of the approving and disapproving faculty. Acting conduct, 
behaviour, abstracted from all regard to what is, in fact and 
event, the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of 
the moral discernment; as speculative truth and falsehood 
is of speculative reason. Intention of such and such con- 
sequences, indeed, is always included; for it is part of the 
action itself : but though the intended good or bad conse- 
quences do not follow, we have exactly the same sense of 
the action as if they did. In like manner we think well or 
ill of characters, abstracted from all consideration of the good 

* Ovce r/ dperri kcu Katda — kv tteivel, dWd evepyeia, M. Anton, lib. ix. 
16. Virtutis laus omnis in actione consistit. Cic. Off. lib. i. cap. 6. 



DISS, II. 



Of the Nature of Virtue. 



281 



or the evil, which persons of such characters have it actually 
in their power to do. We never, in the moral way, applaud 
or blame either ourselves or others, for what we enjoy or what 
we suffer, or for having impressions made upon us which we 
consider as altogether out of our power : but only for what 
we do, or would have done, had it been in our power ; or 
for what we leave undone, which we might have done, or 
would have left undone, though we could have done it. 

Secondly, Our sense or discernment of actions as morally 
good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment of them 
as of good or ill discernment. It may be difficult to explain 
this perception, so as to answer all the questions which may 
be asked concerning it : but every one speaks of such and 
such actions as deserving punishment; and it is not, I sup- 
pose, pretended, that they have absolutely no meaning at all 
to the expression. Now the meaning plainly is not, that we 
conceive it for the good of society, that the doer of such 
actions should be made to suffer. For if unhappily it were 
resolved, that a man, who, by some innocent action, was in- 
fected with the plague, should be left to perish, lest, by other 
people's coming near him, the infection should spread ; no 
one would say he deserved this treatment. Innocence and 
ill-desert are inconsistent ideas. Ill-desert always supposes 
guilt : and if one be no part of the other, yet they are evi- 
dently and naturally connected in our mind. The sight of 
a man in misery raises our compassion towards him ; and, 
if this misery be inflicted on him by another, our indigna- 
tion against the author of it. But when we are informed, 
that the sufferer is a villain, and is punished only for his 
treachery or cruelty; our compassion exceedingly lessens, 
and in many instances our indignation wholly subsides. 
Now what produces this effect is the conception of that in 
the sufferer, which we can ill-desert. Upon considering 
then, or viewing together, our notion of vice and that of 
misery, there results a third, that of ill-desert. And thus 
there is in human creatures an association of the two ideas, 
natural and moral evil, wickedness and punishment. If 
this association were merely artificial or accidental, it were 
nothing : but being most unquestionably natural, it .greatly 
concerns us to attend to it, instead of endeavouring to ex- 
plain it away. 

It may be observed farther, concerning our perception of 
good and of ill desert, that the former is very weak with 



282 Of the Nature of Virtue. diss. ii. 

respect to common instances of virtue. One reason of which 
may be, that it does not appear to a spectator, how far such 
instances of virtue proceed from a virtuous principle, or in 
what degree this principle is prevalent : since a very weak 
regard to virtue may be sufficient to make men act well in 
many common instances. And on the other hand, our per- 
ception of ill-desert in vicious actions lessens, in proportion 
to the temptations men are thought to have had to such 
vices. For, vice in human creatures consisting chiefly in 
the absence or want of the virtuous principle ; though a 
man be overcome, suppose, by tortures, it does not from 
thence appear to what degree the virtuous principle was 
wanting. All that appears is, that he had it not in such a 
degree, as to prevail over the temptation : but possibly he 
had it in a degree, which would have rendered him proof 
against common temptations. 

Thirdly, Our perception of vice and ill- desert arises from, 
and is the result of, a comparison of actions with the nature 
and capacities of the agent. For the mere neglect of doing 
what we ought to do would, in many cases, be determined 
by all men to be in the highest degree vicious. And this 
determination must arise from such comparison, and be the 
result of it ; because such neglect would not be vicious in 
creatures of other natures and capacities, as brutes. And it 
is the same also with respect to positive vices, or such as 
consist in doing what we ought not. For, every one has a 
different sense of harm done by an idiot, madman, or child, 
and by one of mature and common understanding ; though 
the action of both, including the intention, which is part of 
the action, be the same : as it may be, since idiots and mad- 
men, as well as children, are capable not only of doing mis- 
chief, but also of intending it. Now this difference must 
arise from somewhat discerned in the nature or capacities of 
one, which renders the action vicious ; and the want of which, 
in the other, renders the same action innocent or less vicious : 
and this plainly supposes a comparison, whether reflected 
upon or not, between the action and capacities of the agent, 
previous to our determining an action to be vicious. And 
hence arises a proper application of the epithets, incongruous, 
unsuitable, disproportionate, unfit, to actions which our moral 
faculty determines to be vicious. 

Fourthly, It deserves to be considered, whether men are 
more at liberty, in point of morals, to make themselves miser- 



diss. ii. Of the Nature of Virtue. 283 

able without reason, than to make other people so : or dis- 
solutely to neglect their own greater good, for the sake of a 
present lesser gratification, than they are to neglect the good 
of others, whom nature has committed to their care. It should 
seem, that a due concern about our own interest or happi- 
ness, and a reasonable endeavour to secure and promote it, 
which is, I think, very much the meaning of the word pru- 
dence, in our language ; it should seem, that this is virtue, 
and the contrary behaviour faulty and blamable ; since, in 
the calmest way of reflection, we approve of the first, and 
condemn the other conduct, both in ourselves and others. 
This approbation and disapprobation are altogether different 
from mere desire of our own, or of their happiness, and from 
sorrow upon missing it. For the object or occasion of this 
last kind of perception is satisfaction or uneasiness : whereas 
the object of the first is active behaviour. In one case, what 
our thoughts fix upon is our condition : in the other, our 
conduct. It is true indeed, that nature has not given us so 
sensible a disapprobation of imprudence and folly, either in 
ourselves or others; as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty : 
I suppose, because that constant habitual sense of private 
interest and good, which we always carry about with us, 
renders such sensible disapprobation less necessary, less 
wanting, to keep us from imprudently neglecting our own 
happiness, and foolishly injuring ourselves, than it is neces- 
sary and wanting to keep us from injuring others, to whose 
good we cannot have so strong and constant a regard : and 
also because imprudence and folly, appearing to bring its 
own punishment more immediately and constantly than in- 
jurious behaviour, it less needs the additional punishment, 
which would be inflicted upon it by others, had they the 
same sensible indignation against it, as against injustice, and 
fraud, and cruelty. Besides, unhappiness being in itself the 
natural object of compassion ; the unhappiness which people 
bring upon themselves, though it be wilfully, excites in us 
some pity for them : and this of course lessens our displea- 
sure against them. But still it is matter of experience, that 
we are formed so as to reflect very severely upon the greater 
instances of imprudent neglects and foolish rashness, both in 
ourselves and others. In instances of this kind, men often 
say of themselves with remorse, and of others with some 
indignation, that they deserved to suffer such calamities, 
because they brought them upon themselves, and would not 



284 



Of the Nature of Virtue. 



DISS. II. 



take warning. Particularly when persons come to poverty 
and distress by a long course of extravagance, and after fre- 
quent admonitions, though without falsehood or injustice ; 
we plainly do not regard such people as alike objects of 
compassion with those, who are brought into the same con- 
dition by unavoidable accidents. From these things it ap- 
pears, that prudence is a species of virtue, and folly of vice : 
meaning by folly, somewhat quite different from mere inca- 
pacity ; a thoughtless want of that regard and attention to 
our own happiness, which we had capacity for. And this 
the word properly includes ; and, as it seems, in its usual 
acceptation : for we scarcely apply it to brute creatures. 

However, if any person be disposed to dispute the matter, 
I shall very willingly give him up the words Virtue and 
Vice, as not applicable to prudence and folly : but must beg 
leave to insist, that the faculty within us, which is the judge 
of actions, approves of prudent actions, and disapproves im- 
prudent ones ; I say prudent and imprudent actions as such, 
and considered distinctly from the happiness or misery which 
they occasion. And, by the way, this observation may help 
to determine what justness there is in that objection against 
religion, that it teaches us to be interested and selfish. 

Fifthly, Without inquiring how far, and in what sense, 
virtue is resolvable into benevolence, and vice into the want 
of it ; it may be proper to observe, that benevolence, and the 
want of it, singly considered, are in no sort the whole of vir- 
tue and vice. For if this were the case, in the review of 
one's own character, or that of others, our moral understand- 
ing and moral sense would be indifferent to every thing, but 
the degrees in which benevolence prevailed, and the degrees 
in which it was wanting. That is, we should neither approve 
of benevolence to some persons rather than to others, nor 
disapprove injustice and falsehood upon any other account, 
than merely as an overbalance of happiness was foreseen 
likely to be produced by the first, and of misery by the second. 
But now, on the contrary, suppose two men competitors for 
any thing whatever, which would be of equal advantage to 
each of them ; though nothing indeed would be more imper- 
tinent, than for a stranger to busy himself to get one of them 
preferred to the other; yet such endeavour would be virtue, 
in behalf of a friend or benefactor, abstracted from all con- 
sideration of distant consequences : as that examples of gra- 
titude, and the cultivation of friendship, would be of general 



DISS. II. 



Of the Nature of Virtue. 



285 



good to the world. Again, suppose one man should, by 
fraud or violence, take from another the fruit of his labour, 
with intent to give it to a third, who he thought would have 
as much pleasure from it as would balance the pleasure which 
the first possessor would have had in the enjoyment, and his 
vexation in the loss of it ; suppose also that no bad conse- 
quences w 7 ould follow : yet such an action would surely be 
vicious. Nay farther, were treachery, violence, and injus- 
tice, no otherwise vicious, than as foreseen likely to produce 
an overbalance of misery to society ; then, if in any case a 
man could procure to himself as great advantage by an act 
of injustice, as the whole foreseen inconvenience, likely to be 
brought upon others by it, would amount to ; such a piece of 
injustice would not be faulty or vicious at all ; because it 
would be no more than, in any other case, for a man to pre- 
fer his own satisfaction to another's in equal degrees. The 
fact then appears to be, that we are constituted so as to con- 
demn falsehood, unprovoked violence, injustice, and to ap- 
prove of benevolence to some preferably to others, abstracted 
from all consideration, which conduct is likeliest to produce 
an overbalance of happiness or misery. And therefore, were 
the Author of nature to propose nothing to himself as an end 
but the production of happiness, w r ere his moral character 
merely that of benevolence ; yet ours is not so. Upon that 
supposition indeed, the only reason of his giving us the above- 
mentioned approbation of benevolence to some persons rather 
than others, and disapprobation of falsehood, unprovoked 
violence, and injustice, must be, that he foresaw this consti- 
tution of our nature would produce more happiness, than 
forming us with a temper of mere general benevolence. But 
still, since this is our constitution ; falsehood, violence, injus- 
tice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some, preferably 
to others, virtue ; abstracted from all consideration of the 
overbalance of evil or good, which they may appear likely 
to produce. 

Now if human creatures are endued with such a moral 
nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral faculty, 
the natural object of which is actions : moral government 
must consist in rendering them happy and unhappy, in 
rewarding and punishing them, as they follow, neglect, or 
depart from, the moral rule of action interwoven in their na- 
ture, or suggested and enforced by this moral faculty ;* in 

* P. 138. 



28G 



Of the Nature of Virtue. diss. ii. 



rewarding and punishing them upon account of their so 
doing. 

I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observation, 
contradicted what any author designed to assert. Bat some 
of great and distinguished merit have, I think, expressed 
themselves in a manner, which may occasion some danger, 
to careless readers, of imagining 1 the whole of virtue to con- 
sist in singly aiming, according to the best of their judgment, 
at promoting the happiness of mankind in the present state; 
and the whole of vice, in doing what they foresee, or might 
foresee, is likely to produce an overbalance of unhappiness 
in it : than which mistakes, none can be conceived more ter- 
rible. For it is certain, that some of the most shocking in- 
stances of injustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of 
persecution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the 
appearance of being likety to produce an overbalance of mi- 
sery in the present state ; perhaps sometimes may have the 
contrary appearance. For this reflection might easily be car- 
ried on, but I forbear The happiness of the world is the 

concern of him, who is the lord and the proprietor of it : 
nor do we know what we are about, when we endeavour to 
promote the good of mankind in any ways, but those which 
he has directed; that is indeed in all ways not contrary to 
veracity and justice. I speak thus upon supposition of per- 
sons really endeavouring, in some sort, to do good without 
regard to these. But the truth seems to be, that such sup- 
posed endeavours proceed, almost always, from ambition, the 
spirit of party, or some indirect principle, concealed perhaps 
in great measure from persons themselves. And though it is 
our business and our duty to endeavour, within the bounds 
of veracity and justice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, 
and even cheerfulness and diversion of our fellow-creatures : 
yet, from our short views, it is greatly uncertain^ whether this 
endeavour will, in particular instances, produce an overba- 
lance of happiness upon the whole; since so many and dis- 
tant things must come into the account. And that which 
makes it our duty is, that there is some appearance that it 
will, and no positive appearance sufficient to balance this, 
on the contrary side ; and also, that such benevolent endea- 
vour is a cultivation of that most excellent of all virtuous 
principles, the active principle of benevolence. 

However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our 
rule of life ; it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid 



diss. ii. Of the Nature of Virtue. 287 

in the way of some plain men, that the use of common forms 
of speech, generally understood, cannot be falsehood ; and, 
in general, that there can be no designed falsehood without 
designing- to deceive. It must likewise be observed, that in 
numberless cases, a man may be under the strictest obliga- 
tions to what he foresees will deceive, without his intending 
it. For it is impossible not to foresee, that the words and 
actions of men, in different ranks and employments, and of 
different educations, will perpetually be mistaken by each 
other; and it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with 
the utmost carelessness, as they daily do, of what they are 
not, perhaps, enough informed to be competent judges of, 
even though they considered it with great attention. 



END OF AX A LOGY. 



Printed by J. F. Dove, St. John's Square. 



SERMONS 



RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD 

JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L. 



LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. 




LONDON : 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. F. DOVE, 
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE. 

1828. 



( 



PREFACE. 



Though it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in some way 
or other, of almost every thing which offers itself to one's 
thoughts ; yet it is certain, that many persons, from different 
causes, never exercise their judgment, upon what comes be- 
fore them, in the way of determining whether it be conclu- 
sive, and holds. They are perhaps entertained with some 
things, not so with others ; they like, and they dislike : but 
whether that which is proposed to be made out be really made 
out or not; whether a matter be stated according to the real 
truth of the case, seems to the generality of people merely a 
circumstance of no consideration at all. Arguments are often 
wanted for some accidental purpose: but proof as such is 
what they never want for themselves; for their own satisfac- 
tion of mind, or conduct in life. Not to mention the multi- 
tudes who read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify 
themselves for the world, or some such kind of reasons; there 
are, even of the few who read for their own entertainment, 
and have a real curiosity to see what is said, several, which 
is prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity to see what is 
true : I say, curiosity ; because it is too obvious to be men- 
tioned, how much that religious and sacred attention, which 
is due to truth, and to the important question, What is the 
rule of life ? is lost out of the world. 

For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they are of 
different capacities, different kinds, and get into this way from 
different occasions, I have often wished, that it had been the 
custom to lay before people nothing in matters of argument 
but premises, and leave them to draw conclusions themselves; 
which, though it could not be done in all cases, might in 
many. 

The great number of books and papers of amusement, 
which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way, have 
in part occasioned, and most perfectly fall in with and humour, 
this idle way of reading and considering things. By this 
means, time even in solitude is happily got rid of, without 
the pain of attention : neither is any part of it more put to 
the account of idleness, one can scarce forbear saving, is 

a 2 



PREFACE. 



spent with less thought, than great part of that which is 
spent in reading. 

Thus people habituate themselves to let things pass through 
their minds, as one may speak, rather than to think of them. 
Thus by use they become satisfied merely with seeing what 
is said, without going any further. Review and attention, 
and even forming a judgment, becomes fatigue ; and to lay 
any thing before them that requires it, is putting them quite 
out of their way. 

There are also persons, and there are at least more of them 
than have a right to claim such superiority, who take for 
granted, that they are acquainted with every thing; and 
that no subject, if treated in the manner it should be, can be 
treated in any manner but what is familiar and easy to them. 

It is true indeed, that few persons have a right to demand 
attention ; but it is also true, that nothing can be understood 
without that degree of it, which the very nature of the thing 
requires. Now morals, considered as a science, concerning 
which speculative difficulties are daily raised, and treated 
with regard to those difficulties, plainly require a very pecu- 
liar attention. For here ideas never are in themselves de- 
terminate, but become so by the train of reasoning and the 
place they stand in ; since it is impossible that words can 
always stand for the same ideas, even in the same author, 
much less in different ones. Hence an argument may not 
readily be apprehended, which is different from its being 
mistaken ; and even caution to avoid being mistaken may, in 
some cases, render it less readily apprehended. It is very 
unallowable for a work of imagination or entertainment not 
to be of easy comprehension, but may be unavoidable in a 
work of another kind, where a man is not to form or accom- 
modate, but to state things as he finds them. 

It must be acknowledged, that some of the following Dis- 
courses are very abstruse and difficult ; or, if you please, ob- 
scure ; but I must take leave to add, that those alone are 
judges, whether or no and how far this is a fault, who are 
judges, whether or no and how far it might have been avoided 
— those only who will be at the trouble to understand what is 
here said, and to see how far the things here insisted upon, 
and not other things, might have been put in a plainer 
manner ; which yet I am very far from asserting that they 
could not. 

Thus much however will be allowed, that general criticisms 



PREFACE. v 

concerning obscurity considered as a distinct thing from con- 
fusion and perplexity of thought, as in some cases there may 
be ground for them ; so in others, they may be nothing more 
at the bottom than complaints, that every thing is not to be 
understood with the same ease that some things are. Con- 
fusion and perplexity in writing is indeed without excuse, 
because any one may, if he pleases, know whether he under- 
stands and sees through what he is about : and it is unpar- 
donable for a man to lay his thoughts before others, when he 
is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts he 
is, or how the matter before him stands. It is coming abroad 
in disorder, which he ought to be dissatisfied to find himself 
in at home. 

But even obscurities arising from other causes than the 
abstruseness of the argument may not be always inexcusable. 
Thus a subject may be treated in a manner, which all along 
supposes the reader acquainted with what has been said upon 
it, both by ancient and modern writers ; and with what is the 
present state of opinion in the world concerning such subject. 
This will create a difficulty of a very peculiar kind, and even 
throw an obscurity over the whole before those who are not 
thus informed; but those who are will be disposed to excuse 
such a manner, and other things of the like kind, as a saving 
of their patience. 

However upon the whole, as the title of Sermons gives 
some right to expect what is plain and of easy comprehen- 
sion, and as the best auditories are mixed, I shall not set 
about to justify the propriety of preaching, or under that title 
publishing, Discourses so abstruse as some of these are: nei- 
ther is it worth while to trouble the reader with the account 
of my doing either. He must not however impute to me, as 
a repetition of the impropriety, this second edition,* but to 
the demand for it. 

Whether he will think he has any amends made him by the 
following illustrations of what seemed most to require them, 
I myself am by no means a proper judge. 

There are two ways in which the subject of morals may be 
treated. One begins from inquiring into the abstract relations 
of things : the other from a matter of fact, namely, what the 
particular nature of man is, its several parts, their economy or 
constitution ; from whence it proceeds to determine what 

* The preface stands exactly as it did before the second edition of the 
♦Sermons. 



vi 



PREFACE. 



course of life it is, which is correspondent to this whole 
nature. In the former method the conclusion is expressed 
thus, that vice is contrary to the nature and reason of things: 
in the latter, that it is a violation or breaking in upon our own 
nature. Thus they both lead us to the same thing, our obli- 
gations to the practice of virtue ; and thus they exceedingly 
strengthen and enforce each other. The first seems the most 
direct formal proof, and in some respects the least liable to 
cavil and dispute : the latter is in a peculiar manner adapted 
to satisfy a fair mind ; and is more easily applicable to the 
several particular relations and circumstances in life. 

The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter 
method. The three first wholly. They were intended to 
explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it is said 
that virtue consists in following, and vice in deviating from 
it ; and by explaining to shew that the assertion is true. 
That the ancient moralists had some inward feeling or other, 
which they chose to express in this manner, that man is born 
to virtue, that it consists in following nature, and that vice is 
more contrary to this nature than tortures or death, their 
works in our hands are instances. Now a person who found 
no mystery in this way of speaking of the ancients ; who, 
without being very explicit with himself, kept to his natural 
feeling, went along with them, and found within himself a 
full conviction, that what they laid down was just and true ; 
such a one would probably wonder to see a point, in which 
he never perceived any difficulty, so laboured as this is, in the 
second and third Sermons ; insomuch perhaps as to be at a 
loss for the occasion, scope, and drift of them. But it need 
not be thought strange that this manner of expression, though 
familiar with them, and, if not usually carried so far, yet not 
uncommon amongst ourselves, should want explaining ; since 
there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken of, which 
yet it may not be very easy at first view to explicate, to dis- 
tinguish from all others, and ascertain exactly what the idea 
or perception is. The many treatises upon the passions are 
a proof of this ; since so many would never have undertaken 
to unfold their several complications, and trace and resolve 
them into their principles, if they had thought, what they 
were endeavouring to shew was obvious to every one, who 
felt and talked of those passions. Thus, though there seems 
no ground to doubt, but that the generality of mankind have 
the inward perception expressed so commonly in that man- 



PREFACE, 



vii 



ner by the ancient moralists, more than to doubt whether 
they have those passions ; yet it appeared of use to unfold 
that inward conviction, and lay it open in a more explicit 
manner, than I had seen done ; especially when there were 
not wanting persons, who manifestly mistook the whole thing-, 
and so had great reason to express themselves dissatisfied 
with it. A late author of great and deserved reputation says, 
that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose way 
of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I think he 
intends to express, though with great decency, be true, that 
scarce any other sense can be put upon those words, but 
acting as any of the several parts, without distinction, of a 
man's nature happened most to incline him.* 

Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter 
thoroughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly the 
idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any particular 
nature, or particular any thing : and he will, I suppose, find, 
that it is a one or a whole, made up of several parts; but 
yet, that the several parts even considered as a whole do not 
complete the idea, unless in the notion of a whole you include 
the relations and respects which those parts have to each 
other. Every work both of nature and of art is a system : 
and as every particular thing, both natural and artificial, is for 
some use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add, 
to what has been already brought into the idea of a system, its 
conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let us instance 
in a watch — Suppose the several parts of it taken to pieces, 
and placed apart from each other: let a man have ever so 
exact a notion of these several parts, unless he considers the 
respects and relations which they have to each other, he will 
not have any thing like the idea of a watch. Suppose these 
Several parts brought together and any how united: neither 
will he yet, be the union ever so close, have an idea which 
will bear any resemblance to that of a watch. But let him 
view those several parts put together, or consider them as to 
be put together in the manner of a watch ; let him form a no- 
tion of the relations which those several parts have to each 
other — all conducive in their respective ways to this pur- 
pose, shewing the hour of the day; and then he has the idea 
of a watch. Thus it is with regard to the inward frame of 
man. Appetites, passions, affections, and the principle of re- 
flection, considered merely as the several parts of our inward 
* Rel. of Nature delin. ed. 1724. p. 22, 23. 



viii 



PREFACE, 



nature, do not at all give us an idea of the system or consti- 
tution of this nature; because the constitution is formed by 
somewhat not yet taken into consideration, namely, by the 
relations which these several parts have to each other; the 
chief of which is the authority of reflection or conscience. 
It is from considering the relations which the several appe- 
tites and passions in the inward frame have to each other, 
and, above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, 
that we get the idea of the system or constitution of human 
nature. And from the idea itself it will as fully appear, that 
this our nature, i. e. constitution, is adapted to virtue, as from 
the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature, i. e. constitu- 
tion or system, is adapted to measure time. What in fact or 
event commonly happens is nothing to this question. Every 
work of art is apt to be out of order: but this is so far from 
being according to its system, that let the disorder increase, 
and it will totally destroy it. This is merely by way of ex- 
planation, what an economy, system, or constitution is. And 
thus far the cases are perfectly parallel. If we go further, 
there is indeed a difference, nothing to the present purpose, 
but too important a one ever to be omitted. A machine is in- 
animate and passive: but we are agents. Our constitution is 
put in our own powder. We are charged with it; and there- 
fore are accountable for any disorder or violation of it. 

Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature than 
vice; meaning by nature not only the several parts of our 
internal frame, but also the constitution of it. Poverty and 
disgrace, tortures and death, are not so contrary to it. Mi- 
sery and injustice are indeed equally contrary to some diffe- 
rent parts of our nature taken singly : but injustice is more- 
over contrary to the whole constitution of the nature. 

If it be asked, whether this constitution be really what 
those philosophers meant, and whether they would have 
explained themselves in this manner ; the answ r er is the same, 
as if it should be asked, w T hether a person, who had often 
used the word resentment, and felt the thing, would have 
explained this passion exactly in the same manner, in which 
it is done in one of these Discourses. As I have no doubt, 
but that this is a true account of that passion, which he refer- 
red to and intended to express by the word resentment ; so I 
have no doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground 
of that conviction which they referred to, when they said, 
vice was contrary to nature. And though it should be 



PREFACE. 



ix 



thought that they meant no more than that vice was contrary 
to the higher and better part of our nature ; even this implies 
such a constitution as I have endeavoured to explain. For 
the very terms, higher and better, imply a relation or respect 
of parts to each other ; and these relative parts, being in one 
and the same nature, form a constitution, and are the very 
idea of it. They had a perception that injustice was con- 
trary to their nature, and that pain was so also. They ob- 
served these two perceptions totally different, not in degree, 
but in kind : and the reflecting upon each of them, as they 
thus stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive conviction, 
that more was due and of right belonged to one of these inward 
perceptions, than to the other ; that it demanded in all cases 
to govern such a creature as man. So that, upon the whole, 
this is a fair and true account of what was the ground of their 
conviction ; of what they intended to refer to, when they 
said, virtue consisted in following nature : a manner of speak- 
ing not loose and undeterminate, but clear and distinct, 
strictly just and true. 

Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is felt 
by almost every one ; yet since, considered as an argument 
and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse, and since 
the connexion of it is broken in the three first. Sermons, it 
may not be amiss to give the reader the whole argument here 
in one view. 

Mankind has various instincts and principles of action, as 
brute creatures have ; some leading most directly and imme- 
diately to the good of the community, and some most directly 
to private good. 

Man has several which brutes have not ; particularly reflec- 
tion or conscience, an approbation of some principles or ac- 
tions, and disapprobation of others. 

Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, accord- 
ing to certain rules ; suppose the constitution of their body, 
and the objects around them. 

The generality of mankind also obey their instincts and 
principles, all of them ; those propensions we call good, as 
well as the bad, according to the same rules ; namely, the 
constitution of their body, and the external circumstances 
which they are in, [Therefore it is not a true representa- 
tion of mankind to affirm,- that they are wholly governed by 
self-love, the love of power and sensual appetites : since, as 
on the one hand they are often actuated by these, without any 



X 



PREFACE. 



regard to right or wrong- ; so on the other it is manifest fact, 
that the same persons, the generality, are frequently influ- 
enced by friendship, compassion, gratitude; and even a 
general abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair 
and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of action. 
This is the partial inadequate notion of human nature treated 
of in the first Discourse : and it is by this nature, if one may 
speak so, that the world is in fact influenced, and kept in 
that tolerable order, in which it is,] 

Brutes in acting according to the rules before mentioned, 
their bodily constitution and circumstances, act suitably to 
their whole nature. [It is however to be distinctly noted, 
that the reason why we affirm this is not merely that brutes 
in fact act so ; for this alone, however universal, does not at 
all determine, whether such course of action be correspondent 
to their whole nature : but the reason of the assertion is, that 
as in acting thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in 
their nature, so, from all observations we are able to make 
upon them, there does not appear the least ground to imagine 
them to have any thing else in their nature, which requires 
a different rule or course of action.] 

Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to their 
whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's nature than 
what has been now said ; if that, as it is a true, were also a 
complete, adequate account of our nature. 

But that is not a complete account of man's nature. Some- 
what further must be brought in to give us an adequate notion 
of it; namely, that one of those principles of action, con- 
science or reflection, compared with the rest as they all stand 
together in the nature of man, plainly bears upon it marks of 
authority over all the rest, and claims the absolute direction of 
them all, to allow or forbid their gratification : a disapproba- 
tion of reflection being in itself a principle manifestly supe- 
rior to a mere propension. And the conclusion is, that to- 
allow no more to this superior principle or part of our nature, 
than to other parts ; to let it govern and guide only occasion- 
ally in common with the rest, as its turn happens to come, 
from the temper and circumstances one happens to be in ; 
this is not to act conformably to the constitution of man : 
neither can any human creature be said to act conformably 
to his constitution of nature, unless he allows to that superior 
principle the absolute authority which is due to it. And 
this conclusion is abundantly confirmed from hence, that one 



PREFACE. 



may determine what course of action the economy of man's 
nature requires, without so much as knowing in what degrees 
of strength the several principles prevail, or which of them 
have actually the greatest influence. 

The practical reason of insisting so much upon this natu- 
ral authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is, 
that it seems in great measure overlooked by many, who are 
by no means the worse sort of men. It is thought sufficient 
to abstain from gross wickedness, and to be humane and kind 
to such as happen to come in their way. Whereas in reality 
the very constitution of our nature requires, that we bring our 
whole conduct before this superior faculty ; wait its deter- 
mination ; enforce upon ourselves its authority, and make it 
the business of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole business 
of a moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is the 
true meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence thyself. 

The not taking into consideration this authority, which is im- 
plied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, seems 
a material deficiency or omission in lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry 
concerning Virtue. He has shewn beyond all contradiction, 
that virtue is naturally the interest or happiness, and vice the 
misery, of such a creature as man, placed in the circumstances 
which we are in this world. But suppose there are particular 
exceptions : a case which this author was unwilling to put, 
and yet surely it is to be put : or suppose a case which he 
has put and determined, that of a sceptic not convinced of 
this happy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary opinion. 
His determination is, that it would be without remedy * One 
may say more explicitly, that leaving out the authority of re- 
flex approbation or disapprobation, such a one would be 
under an obligation to act viciously ; since interest, one's own 
happiness, is a manifest obligation, and there is not supposed 
to be any other obligation in the case. " But does it much 
mend the matter, to take in that natural authority of reflection? 
There indeed would be an obligation to virtue ; but would not 
the obligation from supposed interest on the side of vice re- 
main ?" If it should, yet to be under two contrary obligations, 
i. e. under none at all, would not be exactly the same, as to 
be under a formal obligation to be vicious, or to be in circum- 
stances in which the constitution of man's nature plainly re- 
quired that vice should be preferred. But the obligation on 
the side of interest really does not remain. For the natural 
* Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 69. 



xii 



PREFACE. 



authority of the principle of reflection is an obligation the 
most near and intimate, the most certain and known : whereas 
the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no more than 
probable ; since no man can be certain in any circumstances 
that vice is his interest in the present world, much less can 
he be certain against another: and thus the certain obligation 
would entirely supersede and destroy the uncertain one; which 
yet would have been of real force without the former. 

In truth, the taking in this consideration totally changes 
the whole state of the case ; and shews, what this author 
does not seem to have been aware of, that the greatest 
degree of scepticism which he thought possible will still 
leave men under the strictest moral obligations, whatever 
their opinion be concerning the happiness of virtue. For 
that mankind upon reflection felt an approbation of what 
was good, and disapprobation of the contrary, he thought a 
plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly is, which none could 
deny, but from mere affectation. Take in then that authority 
and obligation, which is a constituent part of this reflex 
approbation, and it will undeniably follow, though a man 
should doubt of every thing else, yet, that he would still 
remain under the nearest and most certain obligation to the 
practice of virtue ; an obligation implied in the very idea of 
virtue, in the very idea of reflex approbation. 

And how little influence soever this obligation alone can 
be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one may 
appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since from 
man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life, so little, 
so very little indeed, can possibly in any case be gained by 
vice ; whether it be so prodigious a thing to sacrifice that 
little to the most intimate of all obligations ; and which a 
man cannot transgress without being self-condemned, and, 
unless he has corrupted his nature, without real self-dislike : 
this question, I say, may be asked, even upon supposition 
that the prospect of a future life were ever so uncertain. 

The observation, that man is thus by his very nature a 
law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of the 
utmost importance ; because from it it will follow, that 
though men should, through stupidity or speculative scepti- 
cism, be ignorant of, or disbelieve, any authority in the uni- 
verse to punish the violation of this law ; yet, if there should 
be such authority, they would be as really liable to punish- 
ment, as though they had been beforehand convinced, that 



PREFACE. 



xiii 



such punishment would follow. For in whatever sense we 
understand justice, even supposing, what I think would be 
very presumptuous to assert, that the end of divine punish- 
ment is no other than that of civil punishment, namely, to 
prevent future mischief; upon this bold supposition, igno- 
rance or disbelief of the sanction would by no means exempt 
even from this justice : because it is foreknowledge of the 
punishment which renders us obnoxious to it ; but merely 
violating a known obligation. 

And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a mani- 
fest error or mistake in the author now cited, unless perhaps 
he has incautiously expressed himself so as to be misunder- 
stood ; namely, that it is malice only, and not goodness, which 
can make us afraid* Whereas in reality, goodness is the 
natural and just object of the greatest fear to an ill man. 
Malice may be appeased or satiated ; humour may change, 
but goodness is a fixed, steady, immovable principle of 
action. If either of the former holds the sword of justice, 
there is plainly ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for 
impunity : but if it be goodness, there can be no possible 
hope, whilst the reasons of things, or the ends of govern- 
ment, call for punishment. Thus every one sees how much 
greater chance of impunity an ill man has in a partial admi- 
nistration, than in a just and upright one. It is said, that 
the interest or good of the whole must be the interest of the 
universal Being, and that he can have no other. Be it so. 
This author has proved, that vice is naturally the misery of 
mankind in this world. Consequently it was for the good 
of the whole that it should be so. What shadow of reason 
then is there to assert, that this may not be the case here- 
after? Danger of future punishment (and if there be danger, 
there is ground of fear) no more supposes malice, than the 
present feeling of punishment does. 

"'The Sermon upon the character of Balaam, and that upon 
Self-Deceit, both relate to one subject. I am persuaded, that 
a very great part of the wickedness of the world is, one way 
or other, owing to the self-partiality, self-flattery, and self- 
deceit, endeavoured there to be laid open and explained. It 
is to be observed amongst persons of the lowest rank, in pro- 
portion to their compass of thought, as much as amongst 
men of education and improvement. It seems, that people 
are capable of being thus artful with themselves, in pro- 
* Charact. vol. i. p.JJ9. 



xtv 



PREFACE 



portion as they are capable of being so with others. Those 
who have taken notice that there is really such a thing, 
namely, plain falseness and insincerity in men with regard 
to themselves, will readily see the drift and design of these 
Discourses : and nothing that I can add will explain the 
design of them to him, who has not beforehand remarked, at 
least, somewhat of the character. And yet the admonitions 
they contain may be as much wanted by such a person, as 
by others ; for it is to be noted, that a man may be entirely 
possessed by this unfairness of mind, without having the 
least speculative notion what the thing is. 

The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon is 
introductory to the following one upo?i Forgiveness of Inju- 
ries. It may possibly have appeared to some, at first sight, 
a strange assertion, that injury is the only natural object of 
settled resentment, or that men do not in fact resent deli- 
berately any thing but under this appearance of injury. But 
I must desire the reader not to take any assertion alone by 
itself, but to consider the whole of what is said upon it : 
because this is necessary, not only in order to judge of the 
truth of it, but often, such is the nature of language, to see 
the very meaning of the assertion. Particularly as to this, 
injury and injustice is, in the Sermon itself, explained to 
mean, not only the more gross and shocking instances of 
wickedness, but also contempt, scorn, neglect, any sort of 
disagreeable behaviour towards a person, which he thinks 
other than what is due to him. And the general notion of 
injury or wrong plainly comprehends this, though the words 
are mostly confined to the higher degrees of it. 

Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral obli- 
gations which has been disputed. But the proof, that it is 
really an obligation, what our nature and condition require, 
seems very obvious, were it only from the consideration, that 
revenge is doing; harm merely for harm's sake. And as to 
the love of our enemies: resentment cannot supersede the 
obligation to universal benevolence, unless they are in the 
nature of the thing inconsistent, which they plainly are.not. # 

This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our ene- 
mies, though to be met with in Gentile moralists, yet is in a 
peculiar sense a precept of Christianity ; as our Saviour has 
insisted more upon it than upon any other single virtue. 
One reason of this doubtless is, that it so peculiarly becomes 

* Page 96. 



PREFACE. 



XV 



an imperfect, faulty creature. But it may be observed also? 
that a virtuous temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, 
and good meaning towards every body, and a strong feeling 
of injustice and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection of 
our virtue, lead a person to violate this obligation, if he be 
not upon his guard. And it may well be supposed, that this 
is another reason why it is so much insisted upon by him, 
who knew what was in man. 

The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state the 
notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order to shew that 
benevolence is not more unfriendly to self-love, than any 
other particular affection whatever. There is a strange 
affectation in many people of explaining away all particular 
affections, and representing the whole of life as nothing but 
one continued exercise of self-love. Hence arises that sur- 
prising confusion and perplexity in the Epicureans* of old, 
Hobbes, the author of Reflections, Sentences, et Maximes 
Morales, and this whole set of writers; the confusion of 
calling actions interested which are done in contradiction to 
the most manifest known interest, merely for the gratification 
• of a present passion. Now all this confusion might easily be 
avoided, by stating to ourselves wherein the idea of self-love 
in general consists, as distinguished from all particular move- 
ments towards particular external objects; the appetites of 
sense, resentment, compassion, curiosity, ambition, and the 
rest.f When this is done, if the words selfish and interested 
cannot be parted with, but must be applied to every thing ; 
yet, to avoid such total confusion of all language, let the dis- 
tinction be made by epithets : and the first may be called 
cool or settled selfishness, and the other passionate or sensual 
selfishness. But the most natural way of speaking plainly is, 
to call the first only, self-love, and the actions proceeding 
from it, interested : and to say of the latter^ that they are not 

* One need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system, 
in Cicero's first book De Finibus, to see in what a surprising manner this 
was done by them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he 
explains to be no other than desire of safety : regard to our country, even 
in the most virtuous character, to be nothing but regard to ourselves. The 
author of Reflections, fyc. Morales, says, Curiosity proceeds from interest or 
pride; which pride also would doubtless have been explained to be self- 
love. Page 85. ed. 1725. As if there were no such passions in mankind 
as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge. Hobbes's ac- 
count of the affections of good-will and pity are instances of the same 
kind. f Page 114, &c. 



xvi 



PREFACE. 



love to ourselves, but movements towards somewhat external : 
honour, power, the harm or good of another : and that the 
pursuit of these external objects, so far as it proceeds from 
these movements (for it may proceed from self-love*), is no 
otherwise interested, than as every action of every creature 
must, from the nature of the thing, be; for no one can act but 
from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own. 

Self-love and any particular passion may be joined toge- 
ther ; and from this complication, it becomes impossible in 
numberless instances to determine precisely, how far an 
action, perhaps even of one's own, has for its principle 
general self-love, or some particular passion. But this need 
create no confusion in the ideas themselves of self-love and 
particular passions. We distinctly discern what one is, and 
what the other are : though we may be uncertain how far 
one or the other influences us. And though, from this un- 
certainty, it cannot but be that there will be different opi- 
nions concerning mankind, as more or less governed by 
interest; and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which 
others will ascribe to particular passions : yet it is absurd to 
say that mankind are wholly actuated by either ; since it is 
manifest that both have their influence. For as, on the one 
hand, men form a general notion of interest, some placing it 
in one thing, and some in another, and have a considerable 
regard to it thoughout the course of their life, which is 
owing to self-love ; so, on the other hand, they are often set 
on work by the particular passions themselves, and a consi- 
derable part of life is spent in the actual gratification of 
them, i. e. is employed, not by self-love, but by the passions. 

Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit necessarily 
presupposes particular passions or appetites; since the very 
idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite 
or affection enjoys its object. It is not because we love our- 
selves that we find delight in such and such objects, but be- 
cause we have particular affections towards them. Take 
away these affections, and you leave self-love absolutely 
nothing at all to employ itself about;f no end or object for 
it to pursue, excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed 
the Epicureans, who maintained that absence of pain was 
the highest happiness, might, consistently with themselves, 
deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every sensual 
appetite too: but the very idea of interest or happiness other 
* See the note, page 27. \ Page 1 16. 



PREFACE. 



xvii 



than absence of pain implies particular appetites or pas- 
sions ; these being necessary to constitute that interest or 
happiness. 

The observation, that benevolence is no more disinterested 
than any of the common particular passions,^ seems in itself 
worth being taken notice of; but is insisted upon to obviate 
that scorn, which one sees rising upon the faces of people 
who are said to know the world, when mention is made of a 
disinterested, generous, or public-spirited action. The truth 
of that observation might be made appear in a more formal 
manner of proof : for whoever will consider all the possible 
respects and relations which any particular affection can 
have to self-love and private interest, will, I think, see de- 
monstrably, that benevolence is not in any respect more at 
variance with self-love, than any other particular affection 
whatever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly 
to it. 

If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and 
benevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, but 
only to be distinguished from each other ; in the same way 
as virtue and any other particular affection, love of arts, sup- 
pose, are to be distinguished. Every thing is what it is, and 
not another thing. The goodness or badness of actions does 
not arise from hence, that the epithet, interested or dis- 
interested, may be applied to them, any more than that any 
other indifferent epithet, suppose inquisitive or jealous, may 
or may not be applied to them; not from their being attended 
with present or future pleasure or pain ; but from their being 
what they are ; namely, what becomes such creatures as we 
are, what the state of the case requires, or the contrary. Or 
in other words, we may judge and determine, that an action 
is morally good or evil, before we so much as consider, 
whether it be interested or disinterested. This consideration 
no more comes in to determine whether an action be vir- 
tuous, than to determine whether it be resentful. Self-love 
in its due degree is as just and morally good, as any affection 
whatever. Benevolence towards particular persons may be 
to a degree of weakness, and so be blameable : and disin- 
terestedness is so far from being in itself commendable, that 
j the utmost possible depravity which we can in imagination 
conceive, is that of disinterested cruelty. 

Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love 

* Page 117, &c. 
BUTLER. B 



xviii PREFACE. 

were weaker in the generality of the world than it is. The 
influence which it has seems plainly owing to its being con- 
stant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the 
degree or strength of it. Every caprice of the imagination, 
every curiosity of the understanding, every affection of the 
heart, is perpetually shewing its weakness, by prevailing over 
it. Men daily, hourly sacrifice the greatest known interest, 
to fancy, inquisitiveness, love, or hatred, any vagrant incli- j 
nation. The thing to be lamented is, not that men have so 
great regard to their own good or interest in the present \ 
world, for they have not enough ;* but that they have so little 
to the good of others. And this seems plainly owing to their ; 
being so much engaged in the gratification of particular pas- 
sions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen to be 
tnost prevalent in them, much more than to self-love. As a 
proof of this may be observed, that there is no character more 
void of friendship, gratitude, natural affection, love to their 
country, common justice, or more equally and uniformly 
hardhearted, than the abandoned in, what is called, the way j 

of pleasure- hardhearted and totally without feeling in 

behalf of others; except when they cannot escape the sight 
of distress, and so are interrupted by it in their pleasures. 
And yet it is ridiculous to call such an abandoned course of 
pleasure interested, when the person engaged in it knows 
beforehand, and goes on under the feeling and apprehension, 
that it will be as ruinous to himself, as to those who depend 
upon him. 

Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to 
cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if 
they were to accustom themselves often to set down and 
consider, what was the greatest happiness they were capable 
of attaining for themselves in this life, and if self-love were 
so strong and prevalent, as that they would uniformly pur- 
sue this their supposed chief temporal good, without being 
diverted from it by any particular passion ; it would mani- 
festly prevent numberless follies and vices. This was in a 
great measure the Epicurean system of philosophy. It is j 
indeed by no means the religious or even moral institution 
of life. Yet, with all the mistakes men would fall into about 
interest, it would be less mischievous than the extravagances 
of mere appetite, will, and pleasure : for certainly self-love, 
though confined to the interest of this life, is, of the two, a 

* Page 3-2. 



PREFACE. 



xix 



much better guide than passion,* which has absolutely no 
bound nor measure, but what is set to it by this self-love, or 
moral considerations. 

From the distinction above made between self-love, and 
the several particular principles or affections in our nature, 
we may see how good ground there was for that assertion, 
maintained by the several ancient schools of philosophy 
against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued 
as an end, eligible in and for itself. For, if there be any 
principles or affections in the mind of man distinct from self- 
love, that the things those principles tend towards, or that 
the objects of those affections are, each of them, in themselves 
eligible, to be pursued upon its own account, and to be 
rested in as an end, is implied in the very idea of such prin- 
ciple or affection. f They indeed asserted much higher 
things of virtue, and with very good reason ; but to say thus 
much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no 
more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every 
natural affection whatever. 

The question, which was a few years ago disputed in 
France, concerning the love of God, which was there called 
enthusiasm, as it will every where by the generality of the 
world ; this question, I say, answers in religion to that old 
one in morals now mentioned. And both of them are, I 
think, fully determined by the same observation, namely, 
that the very nature of affection, the idea itself, necessarily 
implies resting in its object as an end. 

I shall not here add any thing further to what I have said 
in the two Discourses upon that most important subject, but 
only this : that if we are constituted such sort of creatures, 
as from our very nature to feel certain affections or move- 
ments of mind, upon the sight or contemplation of the 
meanest inanimate part of the creation, for the flowers of the 
field have their beauty ; certainly there must be somewhat 
due to him himself, who is the Author and Cause of all 
things ; who is more intimately present to us than any thing 
else can be, and with whom we have a nearer and more con- 
stant intercourse, than we can have with any creature : there 
must be some movements of mind and heart which corre- 
spond to his perfections, or of which those perfections are 
the natural object : and that when we are commanded to 
love the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our 

* Page 41. f Page 140. 

B 2 



XX 



PREFACE. 



mind, and with all our soul ; somewhat more must be meant 
than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of 
punishments from him ; somewhat more than this must be 
intended : though these regards themselves are most just 
and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often recol- 
lected in such a world as this. 

It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he is not 
to look for any particular reason for the choice of the greatest 
part of these Discourses ; their being taken from amongst 
many others, preached in the same place, through a course 
of eight years, being in great measure accidental. Neither 
is he to expect to find any other connexion between them, 
than that uniformity of thought and design, which will 
always be found in the writings of the same person, when 
he writes with simplicity and in earnest. 



Stanhope, Sept. 16, 1729. 



CONTENTS. 



SERMON I. II. III. 

Upon Human Nature, or Man considered as a 
Moral Agent. 

Page 

I. — Upon the Social Nature of Man. 

For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the 
same office : so we being many are one body in Christ, and every one 
members one of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 5, • • . • . • .23 

II. III. — Upon the Natural Supremacy of Conscience. 

For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things 
contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law to themselves. 
-—Rom. ii. 14. 34, 43 

IV. — Upon the Government of the Tongue. 

If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, 
but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. — Jam. i. 26. 49 

V. VI. — Upon Compassion. 

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. — 
Rom. xii. 15. . .... . . . 58, 67 

VII. — Upon the Character of Balaam. 

Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. — 
Numb, xxiii. 10. 75 

VIII. IX. — Upon Resentment, and Forgiveness of Injuries. 

Ye have heard that it has been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and 
hate thine enemy : but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them 
that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that 
despitefully use you and persecute you. — Matt. v. 43, 44. • • 84, 92 

X.— Upon Self-Deceit. 
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. — 2 Sam. xii. 7. . • 102 

XI. XII. — Upon the Love of our Neighbour. 

And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in 
this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself — 
Rom. xiii. 9. 113, 126 

XIII. XIV.— Upon Piety, or the Love of God. 

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
soul, and with all thy mind. — Matt. xxii. 37. 139, 147 



xxii 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

XV. — Upon the Ignorance of Man. 

When I applied mine heart to know wisdom, and to see the business that 
is done upon the earth : then I beheld all the work of God, that a man 
cannot find out the work that is done under the sun : because though 
a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it ; yea further, 
though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find it. 
— Eccles. viii. 16, 17. 156 

SIX SERMONS 

PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS. 

I. — Preached before the Society for Propagating the Gospel. 

And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, for a 
witness unto all nations. — Matt. xxiv. 14. 166 

II. — Preached before the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and 
Sheriffs, and the Governors of the several Hospitals 
of the City of London. 

The rich and poor meet together : the Lord is the maker of them all. — 



Prov. xxii. 2. 177 

IIL-Preached before the House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41. 

And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the ser- 
vants of God.— 1 Pet. ii. 16. • • • • .190 



IV. — Preached at the Annual Meeting of the Charity 

Children at Christ Church. 

Train up a child in the way he should go : and when he is old, he will not 
depart from it. — Prov. xxii. 6. • 203 

V. — Preached before the House of Lords on the Anni- 
versary of his Majesty's Accession to the Throne. 

I exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and 
giving of thanks, be made for all men ; for kings, and for all that are 
in authority ; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all god- 
liness and honesty. — 1 Tim. ii. 1, 2. .' 216 

VI. -Preached before the Governors of the London Infirmary. 

And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves ; fir charity 
shall cover the multitude of sins. — 1 Pet. iv. 8. • • • - • • 225 

A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham, 1751 . 239 
Correspondence between Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke . 257 



SERMON I. 



UPON HUMAN NATURE. 

for as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the same 
office: so we being many are one body in Christ, and every one members one 
of another. — Rom. xii. 4, 5. 

The Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a par- 
ticular reference to the condition and usages of the Christian 
world at the time they were written. Therefore as they 
cannot be thoroughly understood, unless that condition and 
those usages are known and attended to: so further, though 
they be known, yet if they be discontinued or changed; 
exhortations, precepts, and illustrations of things, which 
refer to such circumstances now ceased or altered, cannot at 
this time be urged in that manner, and with that force 
which they were to the primitive Christians. Thus the text 
now before us, in its first intent and design, relates to the 
decent management of those extraordinary gifts which were 
then in the church,* but which are now totally ceased. 
And even as to the allusion that we are one body in Christ; 
though what the Apostle here intends is equally true of 
Christians in all circumstances; and the consideration of it 
is plainly still an additional motive, over and above moral 
considerations, to the discharge of the several duties and 
offices of a Christian: yet it is manifest this allusion must 
have appeared with much greater force to those, who, by 
the many difficulties they went through for the sake of their 
religion, were led to keep always in view the relation they 
stood in to their Saviour, who had undergone the same; 
to those, who, from the idolatries of all around them, and 
their ill-treatment, were taught to consider themselves as not 
of the world in which they lived, but as a distinct society of 
themselves; with laws and ends, and principles of life and 
action, quite contrary to those which the world professed 

* I Cor. xii. 



24 



Upon Human Nature. serm. i. 



themselves at that time influenced by. Hence the relation 
of a Christian was by them considered as nearer than that of 
affinity and blood ; and they almost literally esteemed them- 
selves as members one of another. 

It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that our being God's 
creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are born 
under, and the whole constitution of man being plainly 
adapted to it, are prior obligations to piety and virtue, 
than the consideration that God sent his Son into the world 
to save it, and the motives which arise from the peculiar 
relation of Christians, as members one of another under 
Christ our head. However, though all this be allowed, as 
it expressly is by the inspired writers ; yet it is manifest 
that Christians at the time of the revelation, and immediately 
after, could not but insist mostly upon considerations of this 
latter kind. 

These observations shew the original particular reference 
of the text; and the peculiar force with which the thing 
intended by the allusion in it, must have been felt by the 
primitive Christian world. They likewise afford a reason 
for treating it at this time in a more general way. 

The relation which the several parts or members of the 
natural body have to each other and to the whole body, is 
here compared to the relation which each particular person 
in society has to other particular persons and to the whole 
society ; and the latter is intended to be illustrated by the 
former. And if there be a likeness between these two rela- 
tions, the consequence is obvious : that the latter shews us 
we were intended to do good to others, as the former shews 
us that the several members of the natural body were intended 
to be instruments of good to each other and to the whole 
body. But as there is scarce any ground for a comparison 
between society and the mere material body, this without 
the mind being a dead unactive thing; much less can the 
comparison be carried to any length. And since the apostle 
speaks of the several members as having distinct offices, 
which implies the mind; it cannot be thought an unallow- 
able liberty, instead of the body and its members, to substi- 
tute the whole nature of man, and all the variety of internal 
principles which belong to it. And then the comparison will 
be between the nature of man as respecting self, and tending 
to private good, his own preservation and happiness; and 
the nature of man as having respect to society, and tending 



SERM. I. 



Upon Human Nature. 



25 



to promote public good, the happiness of that society. 
These ends do indeed perfectly coincide; and to aim at 
public and private good are so far from being inconsistent, 
that they mutually promote each other: yet in the following 
discourse they must be considered as entirely distinct; other- 
wise the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to 
the other, cannot be compared. There can no comparison 
be made, without considering the things compared as dis- 
tinct and different. 

From this review and comparison of the nature of man as 
respecting self, and as respecting society, it will plainly 
appear, that there are as real and the same kind of indications 
in human nature , that we were made for society and to do good 
to ourfellow-creatures; as that we were intended to take care 
of our own life and health and private good: and that the 
same objections lie against one of these assertions, as against 
the other* For, 

First, There is a natural principle of benevolence* in man; 

* Suppose a man of learning- to be writing a grave book upon human 
nature, and to shew in several parts of it that he had an insight into the 
subject he was considering; amongst other things, the following one 
would require to be accounted for; the appearance of benevolence or 
good -will in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, 
and in others. f Cautious of being deceived with outward show, he 
retires within himself to see exactly, what that is in the mind of man 
from whence this appearance proceeds; and, upon deep reflection, asserts 
the principle in the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the 
exercise of it. Would not every body think here was a mistake of one 
word for another? that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting 
for some other human actions, some other behaviour of man to man? And 
could any one be thoroughly satisfied, that what is commonly called 
benevolence or good-will was really the affection meant, but only by 
being made to understand that this learned person had a general hypo- 
thesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be recon- 
ciled? That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition; that 
delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with benevo- 
lence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of 
the two: but in reality that passion does no more account for the whole 
appearances of good-will than this appetite does. Is there not often the 
appearance of one man's wishing that good to another, which he knows 
himself unable to procure him; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by 
a third person? And can love of power any way possibly come in to ac- 
count for this desire or delight? Is there not often the appearance of 
men's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before 
another, to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least 
account for the distinction and preference? For this principle can no 
otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it is a greater instance and 
f Hobbes of Human Nature, c. ix. §. 7. 



26 



Upon Human Nature. 



SERM. I, 



which is in some degree to society, what self-love is to the 
individual. And if there be in mankind any disposition to 
friendship; if there be any such thing as compassion, for 
compassion is momentary love ; if there be any such thing 
as the paternal or filial affections ; if there be any affection 
in human nature, the object and end of which is the good of 
another; this is itself benevolence, or the love of another. 
Be it ever so short, be it in ever so low a degree, or ever so 
unhappily confined ; it proves the assertion, and points out 

exertion of power to do good to one rather than to another. Again, 
suppose good-will in the mind of man to be nothing but delight in the 
exercise of power: men might indeed be restrained by distant and acci- 
dental consideration; but these restraints being removed, they would 
have a disposition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise and proof of 
power: and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same 
principle in the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity. Thus 
cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same 
in the mind of man as good-will: that one tends to the happiness, the 
other to the misery of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an acci- 
dental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard to. These 
are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into, when they have 
occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of 
God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however 
faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man. 

If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as 
good-will in one man towards another; (for the question is not concerning 
either the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection 
itself:) let it be observed, that whether man be thus, or otherwise constituted, 
what is the inward frame in this particular, is a mere question of fact or 
natural history, not proveable immediately by reason. It is therefore to 
be judged of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of 
natural history are: by appealing to the external senses, or inward per- 
ceptions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable by 
one or the other: by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions; for 
a great number of actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, 
and respecting different objects will prove to a certainty, what principles 
they do not, and, to the greatest probability, what principles they do 
proceed from: and lastly, by the testimony of mankind. Now that there 
is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and 
plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, suppos- 
ing there was this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit 
to assert, that resentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but 
reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the 
real nature of that passion, could be shewn in no other way than those 
in which it may be shewn, that there is such a thing in some degree as real 
good-will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be 
implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us 
to do upon our ofan heart and temper; to cultivate, to improve, to call it 
forth, to exercise it in a steady, uniform manner. This is our work; this 
is virtue and religion. 



SERM. I. 



Upon Human Nature. 



27 



what we were designed for, as really as though it were in a 
higher degree and more extensive. I must however remind 
you that though benevolence and self-love are different; 
though the former tends most directly to public good, and 
the latter to private : yet they are so perfectly coincident, 
that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend upon our 
having benevolence in a due degree; and that self-love is 
one chief security of our right behaviour towards society. 
It may be added, that their mutual coinciding, so that we 
can scarce promote one without the other, is equally a proof 
that we were made for both. 

Secondly, This will further appear, from observing that 
the several passions and affections, which are distinct* both 
from benevolence and self-love, do in general contribute and 
lead us to public good as really as to private. It might be 
thought too minute and particular, and would carry us too 
great a length, to distinguish between and compare together 

* Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several 
particular passions, appetites, and affections; and yet they are often con- 
founded again. That they are totally different, will be seen by any one 
who will distinguish between the passions and appetites themselves, and 
endeavouring after the means of their gratification. Consider the appetite 
of hunger, and the desire of esteem : these being the occasion both of 
pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the appetites and pas- 
sions themselves, may put us upon making use of the proper methods of 
obtaining that pleasure, and avoiding that pain; but the feelings themselves, 
the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more 
self-love than they are any thing in the world. Though a man hated him- 
self, he would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the 
gout: and it is plainly supposable there may be creatures with self-love in 
them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible and indifferent 
(as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those, upon 
whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And as 
self-love and the several particular passions and appetites are in them- 
selves totally different; so, that some actions proceed from one, and some 
from the other, will be manifest to any who will observe the two following 
very supposable cases. One man rushes upon certain ruin for the grati- 
fication of a present desire: nobody will call the principle of this action 
self-love. Suppose another man to go through some laborious work upon 
promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the reward 
will be: this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. 
The former of these acti-ons is plainly to be imputed to some particular 
passion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or prin- 
ciple of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions con- 
cerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing to one, and 
how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles are fre- 
quently mixed together, and run up into each other. This distinction is 
further explained in the eleventh sermon. 



28 



Upon Human Nature. 



serm. i, 



the several passions or appetites distinct from benevolence, 
whose primary use and intention is the security and good of 
society ; and the passions distinct from self-love, whose 
primary intention and design is the security and good of the 
individual.* It is enough to the present argument, that de- 
sire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem of them, love 
of society as distinct from affection to the good of it, indig- 
nation against successful vice, that these are public affections 
or passions ; have an immediate respect to others, naturally 
lead us to regulate our behaviour in such a manner as will 
be of service to our fellow-creatures. If any or all of these 
may be considered likewise as private affections, as tending 
to private good ; this does not hinder them from being public 
affections too, or destroy the good influence of them upon 
society, and their tendency to public good. It may be added, 
that as persons without any conviction from reason of the 
desirableness of life, would yet of course preserve it merely 
from the appetite of hunger; so by acting merely from 
regard (suppose) to reputation, without, any consideration of 
the good of others, men often contribute to public good. In 
both these instances they are plainly instruments in the hands 
of another, in the hands of Providence, to carry on ends, the 
preservation of the individual and good of society, which 
they themselves have not in their view or intention. The 
sum is, men have various appetites, passions, and particular 
affections, quite distinct both from self-love and from bene- 
volence : all of these have a tendency to promote both public 
and private good, and may be considered as respecting 
others and ourselves equally and in common : but some of 
them seem most immediately to respect others, or tend to 
public good ; others of them most immediately to respect 
self, or tend to private good : as the former are not benevo- 
lence, so the latter are not self-love : neither sort are in- 

* If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a parti- 
cular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for 
one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite ; because the end 
for which it was given us is the preservation of the individual. Desire of 
esteem is a public passion ; because the end for which it was given us is 
to regulate our behaviour towards society. The respect which this has to 
private good is as remote as the respect that has to public good: and the 
appetite is no more self-love, than the passion is benevolence. The 
object and end of the former is merely food ; the object and end of the 
latter is merely esteem : but the latter can no mere be gratified, without 
contributing to the good of society ; than the former can be gratified, 
without contributing to the preservation of the individual. 



serm. i. Upon Human Nature. 



29 



stances of our love either to ourselves or others ; but only 
instances of our Maker's care and love both of the individual 
and the species, and proofs that he intended we should be 
instruments of good to each other, as well as that we should 
be so to ourselves. 

Thirdly, There is a principle of reflection in men, by which 
they distinguish between, approve and disapprove their own 
actions. We are plainly constituted such sort of creatures 
as to reflect upon our own nature. The mind can take a 
view of what passes within itself, its propensions, aversions, 
passions, affections, as respecting such objects, and in such 
degrees ; and of the several actions consequent thereupon. 
In this survey it approves of one, disapproves of another, 
and towards a third is affected in neither of these ways, but 
is quite indifferent. This principle in man, by which he 
approves or disapproves his heart, temper, and actions, is 
conscience ; for this is the strict sense of the word, though 
sometimes it is used so as to take in more. And that this 
faculty tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each 
other, and leads them to do good, is too manifest to need 
being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the affection of love 
to his children : this leads him to take care of, to educate, 
to make due provision for them ; the natural affection leads 
to this : but the reflection that it is his proper business, what 
belongs to him, that it is right and commendable so to do ; 
this added to the affection becomes a much more settled 
principle, and carries him on through more labour and diffi- 
culties for the sake of his children, than he would undergo 
from that affection alone, if he thought it, and the course of 
action it led to, either indifferent or criminal. This indeed 
is impossible, to do that which is good and not to approve of 
it ; for which reason they are frequently not considered as 
distinct, though they really are : for men often approve of 
the actions of others, which they will not imitate, and like- 
wise do that which they approve not. It cannot possibly be 
denied, that there is this principle of reflection or conscience 
in human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an innocent 
person in great distress ; suppose the same man afterwards, 
in the fury of anger, to do the greatest mischief to a person 
who had given no just cause of offence ; to aggravate the 
injury, add the circumstances of former friendship, and obli- 
gation from the injured person; let the man who is supposed 
to have done these two different actions, coolly reflect upon 



30 



Upon Human Nature. 



SEIiM. J. 



them afterwards, without regard to their consequences to 
himself : to assert that any common man would be affected 
in the same way towards these different actions, that he would 
make no distinction between them, but approve or disap- 
prove them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need being 
confuted. There is therefore this principle of reflection or 
conscience in mankind. It is needless to compare the respect 
it has to private good, with the respect it has to public; 
since it plainly tends as much to the latter as to the former, 
and is commonly thought to tend chiefly to the latter. This 
faculty is now mentioned merely as another part in the 
inward frame of man, pointing out to us in some degree what 
we are intended for, and as what will naturally and of course 
have some influence. The particular place assigned to it by 
nature, what authority it has, and how great influence it 
ought have, shall be hereafter considered. 

From this comparison of benevolence and self-love, of our 
public and private affections, of the courses of life they lead 
to, and of the principle of reflection or conscience as respect- 
ing each of them, it is as manifest, that we were made for 
society, and to promote the happiness of it ; as that ice were 
intended to take care of our own life, and health, and private 
good. 

And from this whole review must be given a different 
draught of human nature from what we are often presented 
with. Mankind are by nature so closely united, there is 
such a correspondence between the inward sensations of one 
man and those of another, that disgrace is as much avoided 
as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and love as 
much desired as any external goods : and in many particular 
cases, persons are carried on to do good to others, as the end 
their affection tends to and rests in ; and manifest that they 
find real satisfaction and enjoyment in this course of beha- 
viour. There is such a natural principle of attraction in man 
towards man, that having trod the same tract of land, having 
breathed in the same climate, barely having been in the same 
artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of con- 
tracting acquaintances and familiarities many years after : 
for any thing may serve the purpose. Thus relations merely 
nominal are sought and invented, not by governors, but by 
the lowest of the people ; which are found sufficient to hold 
mankind together in little fraternities and copartnerships : 
weak ties indeed, and what may afford fund enough for ridi- 



serm. p. Upon Human Nature. 31 

cule, if they are absurdly considered as the real principles of 
that union : but they are in truth merely the occasions, as 
any thing may be of any thing, upon which our nature car- 
ries us on according to its own previous bent and bias ; which 
occasions therefore would be nothing at all, were there not 
this prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much 
one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for each other, 
shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, prosperity, dis- 
tress ; one or another, or all of these, from the social nature 
in general, from benevolence, upon the occasion of natural 
relation, acquaintance, protection, dependence ; each of 
these being distinct cements of society. And therefore to 
have no restraint from, no regard to others in our behaviour, 
is the speculative absurdity of considering ourselves as single 
and independent, as having nothing in our nature which has 
respect to our fellow-creatures, reduced to action and prac- 
tice. And this is the same absurdity, as to suppose a hand, 
or any part, to have no natural respect to any other, or to the 
whole body. 

But allowing all this, it may be asked, " Has not man 
dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do evil 
to others, as well as to do good ? Whence come the many 
miseries else, which men are the authors and instruments of 
to each other ?" These questions, so far as they relate to the 
foregoing discourse, may be answered by asking, Has not 
man also dispositions and principles within, which lead him 
to do evil to himself, as well as good ? Whence come the 
many miseries else, sickness, pain, and death, which men 
are instruments and authors of to themselves ? 

It may be thought more easy to answer one of these ques- 
tions than the other, but the answer to both is really the same ; 
that mankind have ungoverned passions which they will 
gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of others, as in con- 
tradiction to known private interest : but that as there is no 
such thing as self-hatred, so neither is there any such thing 
as ill-will in one man towards another, emulation and re- 
sentment being away ; whereas there is plainly benevolence 
or good- will : there is no such thing as love of injustice, op- 
pression, treachery, ingratitude ; but only eager desires after 
such and such external goods ; which, according to a very 
ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose to 
obtain by innocent means, if they were as easy, and as effec- 
tual to their end: that even emulation and resentment, by 



32 



Upon Human Nature. 



SERM. I. 



any one who will consider what these passions really are in 
nature,* will be found nothing to the purpose of this objec- 
tion : and that the principles and passions in the mind of 
man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevolence, 
primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour with 
regard to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and 
accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men, to avoid 
the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of a greater, 
yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency of shame is to 
prevent the doing of shameful actions ; and its leading men 
to conceal such actions when done, is only in consequence 
of their being done; i, e. of the passions not having answered 
its first end. 

If it be said, that there are persons in the world, who are 
in great measure without the natural affections towards their 
fellow-creatures : there are likewise instances of persons 
without the common natural affections to themselves : but 
the nature of man is not to be judged of by either of these, 
but by what appears in the common world, in the bulk of 
mankind. 

I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to confirm 
the truth of this account of human nature, and make out the 
justness of the foregoing comparison, it should be added, 
that, from what appears, men in fact as much and as often 
contradict that part of their nature which respects self, and 
which leads them to their own private good and happiness ; 
as they contradict that part of it which respects society, and 
tends to public good : that there are as few persons, who attain 
the greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they might 
attain in the present world ; as who do the greatest good to 
others which they might do; nay, that there are as few who 
can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at the other. 
Take a survey of mankind : the world in general, the good 

* Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or supe- 
riority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not 
appear to be any other grief in the natural passion, but only that want 
which is implied in desire. However this may be so strong as to be the 
occasion of great grief. To desire the attainment of this equality or 
superiority by the particular means of others being brought down to our 
own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From 
whence it is easy to see, that the real end, which the natural passion emu- 
lation, and which the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly the same; 
namely, that equality or superiority : and consequently, that to do mis- 
chief is not the end of envy, but merely the means it makes use of to at- 
tain its end. As to resentment, see the eighth sermon. 



SERM. I. 



Upon Human Nature, 



33 



and bad, almost without exception, equally are agreed, that 
were religion out of the case, the happiness of the present 
life would consist in a manner wholly in riches, honours, 
sensual gratifications ; insomuch that one scarce hears a re- 
flection made upon prudence, life, conduct, but upon this 
supposition. Yet on the contrary, that persons in the greatest 
affluence of fortune are no happier than such as have only a 
competency ; that the cares and disappointments of ambition 
for the most part far exceed the satisfactions of it ; as also 
the miserable intervals of intemperance and excess, and the 
many untimely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of 
life : these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one 
acknowledged ; but are thought no objections against, though 
they expressly contradict, this universal principle, that the 
happiness of the present life consists in one or other of them, 
Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction ? Is not the 
middle way obvious ? Can any thing be more manifest, than 
that the happiness of life consists in these possessed and en- 
joyed only to a certain degree ; that to pursue them beyond 
this degree, is always attended with more inconvenience than 
advantage to a man's self, and often with extreme misery and 
unhappiness. Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and 
contradiction ? Is it really the result of consideration in man- 
kind, how they may become most easy to themselves, most 
free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness attainable in 
this world ? Or is it not manifestly owing either to this, that 
they have not cool and reasonable concern enough for them- 
selves to consider wherein their chief happiness in the pre- 
sent life consists ; or else, if they do consider it, that they 
will not act conformably to what is the result of that con- 
sideration : i. e. reasonable concern for themselves, or cool 
self-love is prevailed over by passion and appetite. So that 
from what appears, there is no ground to assert that those 
principles in the nature of man, which most directly lead to 
promote the good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally 
or in a greater degree violated, than those, which most directly 
lead us to promote our own private good and happiness. 

The sum of the whole is plainly this. The nature of man 
considered in his single capacity, and with respect only to 
the present world, is adapted and leads him to attain the 
greatest happiness he can for himself in the present world. 
The nature of man considered in his public or social capacity 
leads him to a right behaviour in society to that course of life 

butler. c 



34 Upon Human Nature. serm. If* 



which we call virtue. Men follow or obey their nature in 
both these capacities and respects to a certain degree, but 
not entirely : their actions do not come up to the whole of 
what their nature leads them to in either of these capacities 
or respects : and they often violate their nature in both, L e. 
as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow-creatures, 
to which their nature leads them ; and are injurious, to which 
their nature is abhorrent ; so there is a manifest negligence 
in men of their real happiness or interest in the present world, 
when that interest is inconsistent with a present gratification ; 
for the sake of which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, 
are the authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin. 
Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others, and 
for the most part are equally so to both by the same actions. 

SERMON II. III. 

UPON HUMAN NATURE. 

For when the Gentiles, which hate not the law, do by nature the things con- 
tained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves. — 
Rom. ii. 14. 

As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof, so 
likewise moral obligations maybe shewn by different methods. 
If the real nature of any creature leads him and is adapted 
to such and such purposes only, or more than to any other ; 
this is a reason to believe the author of that nature in- 
tended it for those purposes. Thus there is no doubt the 
eye was intended for us to see with. And the more complex 
any constitution is, and the greater variety of parts there are 
which thus tend to some one end, the stronger is the proof 
that such end was designed. However, when the inward 
frame of man is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost 
caution must be used that none make peculiarities in their 
own temper, or any thing which is the effect of particular 
customs, though observable in several, the standard of what 
is common to the species; and above all, that the highest 
principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which belongs 
the adjustment and correction of all other inward movements 
and affections : which principle will of course have some in- 
fluence, but which being in nature supreme, as shall now be 
shewn, ought to preside over and govern all the rest. The 
difficulty of rightly observing the two former cautions ; the 



serm. ii. Upon Human Nature. 35 

appearance there is of some small diversity amongst man- 
kind with respect to this faculty, with respect to their na- 
tural sense of moral good and evil ; and the attention neces- 
sary to survey with any exactness what passes within, have 
occasioned that it is not so much agreed what is the standard 
of the internal nature of man, as of his external form. Nei- 
ther is this last exactly settled. Yet we understand one 
another when we speak of the shape of a human body : so 
likewise we do when we speak of the heart and inward 
principles, how far soever the standard is from being 
exact or precisely fixed. There is therefore ground for 
an attempt of shewing men to themselves, of shewing them 
what course of life and behaviour their real nature points 
out and would lead them to. Now obligations of virtue 
shewn, and motives to the practice of it enforced, from a 
review of the nature of man, are to be considered as an ap- 
peal to each particular person's heart and natural conscience : 
as the external senses are appealed to for the proof of things 
cognizable by them. Since then our inward feelings, and 
the perceptions we receive from our external senses, are 
equally real ; to argue from the former to life and conduct is 
as little liable to exception, as to argue from the latter to 
absolute speculative truth. A man can as little doubt w T hether 
his eyes were given him to see with, as he can doubt of the 
truth of the science of optics, deduced from ocular experi- 
ments. And allowing the inward feeling, shame ; a man 
can as little doubt whether it was given him to prevent his 
doing shameful actions, as he can doubt whether his eyes 
were given him to guide his steps. And as to these inward 
feelings themselves ; that they are real, that man has in his 
nature passions and affections, can no more be questioned, 
than that he has external senses* Neither can the former be 
wholly mistaken; though to a certain degree liable to greater 
mistakes than the latter. 

There can be no doubt but that several propensions or 
instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry him to 
society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, in a sense 
and a manner in which no inward principle leads him to evil. 
These principles, propensions, or instincts which lead him 
to do good, are approved of by a certain faculty within, quite 
distinct from these propensions themselves. All this hath 
been fully made out in the foregoing discourse. 

But it may be said, " What is all this, though true, to the 

c2 



36 



Upon Human Nature. 



SERM. II. 



purpose of virtue and religion ? these require, not only that 
we do good to others when we are led this way, by benevo- 
lence or reflection, happening to be stronger than other prin- 
ciples, passions, or appetites ; but likewise that the whole 
character be formed upon thought and reflection; that every 
action be directed by some determinate rule, some other rule 
than the strength and prevalency of any principle or passion, 
What sign is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only 
about what is to be collected from thence) that this was in- 
tended by its Author ? Or how does so various and fickle a 
temper as that of man appear adapted thereto ? It may in- 
deed be absurd and unnatural for men to act without any 
reflection ; nay, without regard to that particular kind of re- 
flection which you call conscience ; because this does be- 
long to our nature. For as there never was a man but who 
approved one place, prospect, building, before another : so 
it does not appear that there ever was a man who would not 
have approved an action of humanity rather than of cruelty ; 
interest and passion being quite out of the case. But interest 
and passion do come in, and are often too strong for and 
prevail over reflection and conscience. Now as brutes have 
various instincts, by which they are carried on to the end the 
Author of their nature intended them for : is not man in the 
same condition; with this difference only, that to his instincts 
(i. e. appetites and passions) is added the principle of reflec- 
tion or conscience ? And as brutes act agreeably to their 
nature, in following that principle or particular instinct which 
for the present is strongest in them : does not man likewise 
act agreeably to his nature, or obey the law of his creation, 
by following that principle, be it passion or conscience, which 
for the present happens to be strongest in him? Thus diffe- 
rent men are by their particular nature hurried on to pursue 
honour, or riches, or pleasure: there are also persons whose 
temper leads them in an uncommon degree to kindness, com- 
passion, doing good to their fellow-creatures : as there are 
others who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh 
and consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection. 
Let every one then quietly follow his nature ; as passion, 
reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be 
strongest : but let not the man of virtue take upon him to 
blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute; since these 
equally with him obey and follow their nature. Thus, as 
in some cases we follow our nature in doing the works con- 



serm. iiv Upon Human Nature. 37 

tained in the law, so in other cases we follow nature in doing 
contrary." 

Now all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a suppo- 
sition, that men follow their nature in the same sense, in 
violating the known rules of justice and honesty for the sake 
of a present gratification, as they do in following those rules 
when they have no temptation to the contrary. And if this 
were true, that could not be so which St. Paul asserts, that 
men are by nature a law to themselves. If by following na- 
ture were meant only acting as we please, it would indeed 
be ridiculous to speak of nature as any guide in morals: nay 
the very mention of deviating from nature would be absurd; 
and the mention of following it, when spoken by way of dis- 
tinction, would absolutely have no meaning. For did ever 
any one act otherwise than as he pleased ? And yet the an- 
cients speak of deviating from nature as vice; and of follow- 
ing nature so much as a distinction, that according to them 
the perfection of virtue consists therein. So that language 
itself should teach people another sense to the words follow- 
ing nature, than barely acting as we please. Let it however 
be observed, that though the words human nature are to be 
explained, yet the real question of this discourse is not con- 
cerning the meaning of words, any other than as the expla- 
nation of them may be needful to make out and explain the 
assertion, that every man is naturally a law to himself, that 
every one may find within himself the rule of right, and obli- 
gations to follow it. This St. Paul affirms in the words of 
the text, and this the foregoing objection really denies by 
seeming to allow it. And the objection will be fully an- 
swered, and the text before us explained, by observing that 
nature is considered in different views, and the word used in 
different senses ; and by shewing in what view it is consi- 
dered, and in what sense the word is used, when intended 
to express and signify that which is the guide of life, that 
by which men are a law!to themselves. I say, the explanation 
of the term will be sufficient, because from thence it will 
appear, that in some senses of the word nature cannot be, 
but that in another sense it manifestly is, a law to us. 

I. By nature is often meant no more than some principle in 
man, without regard either to the kind or degree of it. Thus 
the passion of anger, and the affection of parents to their 
children, would be called equally natural. And as the same 
person hath often contrary principles, which at the same time 



38 



Upon Human Nature. 



SERM. II. 



draw contrary ways, he may by the same action both follow 
and contradict his nature in this sense of the word ; he may 
follow one passion and contradict another. 

II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in those 
passions which are strongest, and most influence the actions ; 
which being vicious ones, mankind is in this sense naturally 
vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus St. Paul says of the 
Gentiles, who were dead in trespasses and sins, and walked ac- 
cording to the spirit of disobedience, that they were by nature 
the children of wrath* They could be no otherwise children 
of wrath by nature, than they were vicious by nature. 

Here then are two different senses of the word nature, in 
neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to them- 
selves. They are mentioned only to be excluded ; to prevent 
their being confounded, as the latter is in the objection, with 
another sense of it, which is now to be inquired after and ex- 
plained. 

III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by Nature 
the things contained in the law. Nature is indeed here pat 
by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it is not a mere 
negative. He intends to express more than that by which 
they did not, that by which they did the works of the law ; 
namely, by nature. It is plain the meaning of the word is 
not the same in this passage as in the former, where it is 
spoken of as evil ; for in this latter it is spoken of as good ; 
as that by which they acted, or might have acted virtuously. 
What that is in man by which he is naturally a law to himself, 
is explained in the following words : Which shew the work 
of the law written in their hearts, their consciences also bear- 
ing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else 
excusing one another. If there be a distinction to be made 
between the works written in their hearts, and the witness of 
conscience; by the former must be meant the natural dispo- 
sition to kindness and compassion, to do what is of good re- 
port, to which this apostle often refers : that part of the na- 
ture of man, treated of in the foregoing discourse, which 
with very little reflection and of course leads him to society, 
and by means of which he naturally acts a just and good 
part in it, unless other passions or interests lead him astray. 
Yet since other passions, and regards to private interest, 
which lead us (though indirectly, yet they lead us) astray, 
are themselves in a degree equally natural, and often most 

* Ephes. ii. 3. 



serm. ii. Upon Human Nature. 



39 



prevalent ; and since we have no method of seeing the par- 
ticular degrees in which one or the other is placed in us by 
nature * it is plain the former, considered merely as natural, 
good and right as they are/can no more be a law to us than 
the latter. But there is a superior principle of reflection or 
conscience in every man, which distinguishes between the 
internal principles of his heart, as well as his external ac- 
tions: which passes judgment upon himself and them; pro- 
nounces determinately some actions to be in themselves just, 
right, good; others to be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust: 
which, without being consulted, without being advised with, 
magisterially exerts itself, and approves or condemns him the 
doer of them accordingly : and which, if not forcibly stopped, 
naturally and always of course goes on to anticipate a higher 
and more effectual sentence, which shall hereafter second 
and affirm its own. But this part of the office of conscience 
is beyond my present design explicitly to consider. It is by 
this faculty, natural to man, that he is a moral agent, that 
he is a law to himself: but this faculty, I say, not to be 
considered merely as a principle in his heart, which is to 
have some influence as well as others ; but considered as a 
faculty in kind and in nature supreme over all others, and 
which bears its own authority of being so. 

This prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty 
which surveys, approves or disapproves the several affections 
of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by which 
men are a law to themselves, their conformity or disobedience 
to which law of our nature renders their actions, in the highest 
and most proper sense, natural or unnatural ; it is fit it be 
further explained to you : and* I hope it will be so, if you 
will attend to the following reflections. 

Man may act according to that principle or inclination 
which for the present happens to be strongest, and yet act 
in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real proper 
nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to be allured 
into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly followed 
the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite : 
there is an entire correspondence between his whole .nature 
and such an action : such action therefore is natural. But 
suppose a man, foreseeing the same danger of certain ruin, 
should rush into it for the sake of a present gratification; he 
in this instance would follow his strongest desire, as did the 
brute creature : but there would be as manifest a dispropor- 



40 



Upon Human Nature. 



SERM. II. 



tion, between the nature of a man and such an action, as be- 
tween the meanest work of art and the skill of the greatest 
master in that art: which disproportion arises, not from con- 
sidering the action singly in itself, or in its consequences ; 
but from comparison of it with the nature of the agent. And 
since such an action is utterly disproportionate to the nature 
of man, it is in the strictest and most proper sense unnatural • 
this word expressing that disproportion. Therefore instead 
of the words disproportionate to his nature, the word unna- 
tural may now be put ; this being more familiar to us : but 
let it be observed, that it stands for the same thing precisely. 

Now what is it which renders such a rash action unna- 
tural ? Is it that he went against the principle of reasonable 
and cool self-love, considered merely as a part of his nature? 
No : for if he had acted the contrary way, he would equally 
have gone against a principle, or part of his nature, namely, 
passion or appetite. But to deny a present appetite, from 
foresight that the gratification of it would end in immediate 
ruin or extreme misery, is by no means an unnatural action : 
whereas to contradict or go against cool self-love for the 
sake of such gratification, is so in the instance before us. 
Such an action then being unnatural; and its being so not 
arising from a man's going against a principle or desire 
barely, nor in going against that principle or desire which 
happens for the present to be strongest ; it necessarily fol- 
lows, that there must be some other difference or distinction 
to be made between these two principles, passion and cool 
self-love, than what I have yet taken notice of. And this 
difference, not being a difference in strength or degree, I 
call a difference in nature and in kind. And since, in the 
instance still before us, if passion prevails over self-love, the 
consequent action is unnatural ; but if self-love prevails over 
passion, the action is natural : it is manifest that self-love is 
in human nature a superior principle to passion. This may 
be contradicted without violating that nature ; but the for- 
mer cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the 
economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must govern. 
Thus, without particular consideration of conscience, we 
may have a clear conception of the superior nature of one 
inward principle to another ; and see that there really is 
this natural superiority, quite distinct from degrees of 
strength and prevalency. 

Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as consisting 



SERM. II. 



Upon Human Nature. 



41 



partly of various appetites, passions, affections, and partly of 
the principle of reflection or conscience ; leaving quite out 
all consideration of the different degrees of strength, in 
which either of them prevail, and it will further appear that 
there is this natural superiority of one inward principle to 
another, and that it is even part of the idea of reflection or 
conscience. 

Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency to- 
wards such and such objects, without distinction of the 
means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently it 
will often happen there will be a desire of particular objects, 
in cases where they cannot be obtained without manifest in- 
jury to others. Reflection or conscience comes in, and dis- 
approves the pursuit of them in these circumstances ; but the 
desire remains. Which is to be obeyed, appetite or reflection? 
Cannot this question be answered, from the economy and 
constitution of human nature merely, without saying which 
is strongest? Or need this at all come into consideration? 
Would not the question be intelligibly and fully answered by 
sayings that the principle of reflection or conscience being 
compared with the various appetites, passions, and affections 
in men, the former is manifestly superior and chief, without 
regard to strength ? And how often soever the latter happens 
to prevail, it is mere usurpation: the former remains in 
nature and in kind its superior ; and every instance of such 
prevalence of the latter is an instance of breaking in upon 
and violation of the constitution of man. 

All this is no more than the distinction, which every body 
is acquainted with, between mere power and authority : only 
instead of being intended to express the difference between 
what is possible, and what is lawful in civil government ; 
here it has been shewn applicable to the several principles in 
the mind of man. Thus that principle, by which we survey, 
and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper, and 
actions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to 
have some influence ; which may be said of every passion, 
of the lowest appetites : but likewise as being superior ; as 
from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all 
others : insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this 
faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direction, 
superintendency. This is a constituent part of the idea, that 
is, of the faculty itself : and, to preside and govern, from the 
very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had 



42 



Upon Human Nature. 



SEIIM. II. 



it strength, as it had right ; had it power, as it had manifest 
authority, it would absolutely govern the world. 

This gives us a further view of the nature of man ; shews 
us what course of life we were made for : not only that our 
real nature leads us to be influenced in some degree by re- 
flection and conscience ; but likewise in what degree we are 
to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, and act agree- 
ably to the constitution of our nature : that this faculty was 
placed within to be our proper governor; to direct and re- 
gulate all under principles, passions, and motives of action. 
This is its right and office : thus sacred is its authority. And 
how often soever men violate and rebelliously refuse to sub- 
mit to it, for supposed interest which they cannot otherwise 
obtain, or for the sake of passion which they cannot other- 
wise gratify ; this makes no alteration as to the natural right 
and office of conscience. 

Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and sup- 
pose there was no such thing at all as this natural supremacy 
of conscience ; that there was no distinction to be made be- 
tween one inward principle and another, but only that of 
strength ; and see what would be the consequence. 

Consider then what is the latitude and compass of the 
actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow-creatures, 
and the Supreme Being ? What are their bounds, besides 
that of our natural power? With respect to the two first, 
they are plainly no other than these : no man seeks misery 
as such for himself ; and no one unprovoked does mischief 
to another for its own sake. For in every degree within these 
bounds, mankind knowingly from passion or wantonness 
bring ruin and misery upon themselves and others. And im- 
piety and profaneness, I mean, what every one would call so 
who believes the being of God, have absolutely no bounds at 
all. Men blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in 
words renounce their allegiance to their Creator. Put an 
instance then with respect to any one of these three. Though 
we should suppose profane swearing, and in general that 
kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it im- 
plies wanton disregard and irreverence towards an infinite 
Being, our Creator ; and is this as suitable to the nature of 
man, as reverence and dutiful submission of heart towards 
that Almighty Being? Or suppose a man guilty of parricide, 
with all the circumstances of cruelty which such an action 
can admit of. This action is done in consequence of its prin- 



serm. in. Upon Human Nature. 43 

ciple being for the present strongest : and if there be no dif- 
ference between inward principles, but only that of strength; 
the strength being given, you have the whole nature of the 
man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The action 
plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle being in 
that degree of strength it was : it therefore corresponds to 
the whole nature of the man. Upon comparing the action 
and the whole nature, there arises no disproportion, there 
appears no unsuitableness between them. Thus the murder 
of a father and the nature of man correspond to each other, 
as the same nature and an act of filial duty. If there be 
no difference between inward principles, but only that of 
strength ; we can make no distinction between these two 
actions, considered as the actions of such a creature ; but in 
our coolest hours must approve or disapprove them equally : 
than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurdity. 

SERMON III. 

The natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being 
thus established ; we may from it form a distinct notion of 
what is meant by human nature, when virtue is said to con- 
sist in following it, and vice in deviating from it. 

As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it united 
strength, various subordinations, under one direction, that of 
the supreme authority ; the different strength of each parti- 
cular member of the society not coming into the idea; 
whereas, if you leave out the subordination, the union, and 
the one direction, you destroy and lose it : so reason, several 
appetites, passions, and affections, prevailing in different de- 
grees of strength, is not that idea or notion of human nature; 
but that nature consists in these several principles considered 
as having a natural respect to each other, in the several pas- 
sions being naturally subordinate to the one superior prin- 
ciple of reflection or conscience. Every bias, instinct, pro- 
pension within, is a natural part of our nature, but not the 
whole : add to these the superior faculty, whose office it is 
to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take in this 
its natural superiority, and you complete the idea of human 
nature. And as in civil government the constitution is broken 
in upon, and violated by power and strength prevailing over 
authority ; so the constitution of man is broken in upon and 



44 



Upon Human Nature. 



SERM. III. 



violated by the lower faculties or principles within prevailing 
over that which is in its nature supreme over them all. Thus, 
when it is said by ancient writers, that tortures and death 
are not so contrary to human nature as injustice ; by this to 
be sure is not meant, that the aversion to the former in man- 
kind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion to the 
latter : but that the former is only contrary to our nature 
considered in a partial view, and which takes in only the 
lowest part of it, that which we have in common with the 
brutes ; whereas the latter is contrary to our nature, consi- 
dered in a higher sense, as a system and constitution con- 
trary to the whole economy of man.* 

And from all these things put together, nothing can be 
more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, man cannot 

* Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent. He 
has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered 
separately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each 
other. Neither of these are the nature we are taking a view of. But it 
is the inward frame of man considered as a system or constitution: whose 
several parts are united, not by a physical principle of individuation, but 
by the respects they have to each other; the chief of which is the sub- 
jection which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the 
one supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or consti- 
tution is formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. 
Thus the body is a system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every machine. 
Consider all the several parts of a tree without the natural respects they 
have to each other, and you have not at all the idea of a tree ; but add 
these respects, and this gives you the idea. The body may be impaired 
by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order, and yet the system 
and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly somewhat 
which answers to all this in the moral constitution of man. Whoever will 
consider his own nature, will see that the several appetites, passions, and 
particular affections, have different respects amongst themselves. They 
are restraints upon, and are in a proportion to each other. This proportion 
is just and perfect, when all those under principles are perfectly coin- 
cident with conscience, so far as their nature permits, and in all cases 
under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or defect, the 
least alteration of the due proportions amongst themselves, or of their 
coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, is some 
degree of disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, though 
plainly intelligible and unsupposable, was never attained by any man. If 
the higher principle of reflection maintains its place, and as much as it 
can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out into action, 
this is all that can be expected from such a creature as man. And though 
the appetites and passions have not their exact due proportion to each 
other ; though they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection : 
yet, since the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect 
which forms the constitution, so far as this superiority is maintained, the 
character, the man, is good, worthy, virtuous. 



serm. in. Upon Human Nature. 45 

be considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at 
random, and live at large up to the extent of his natural 
power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him ; 
which is the condition brute creatures are in : but that from 
his make, constitution, or nature, he is in the strictest and 
most proper sense a law to himself. He hath the rule 
of right within : what is wanting is only that he honestly 
attend to it. 

The inquiries which have been made by men of leisure 
after some general rule, the conformity to, or disagreement 
from which, should denominate our actions good or evil, are 
in many respects of great service. Yet let any plain honest 
man, before he engages in any course of action, ask himself, 
Is this I am going about right, or is it wrong? Is it good, 
or is it evil ? I do not in the least doubt, but that this 
question would be answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by 
almost any fair man in almost any circumstance. Neither 
do there appear any cases which look like exceptions to this ; 
but those of superstition, and of partiality to ourselves. Su- 
perstition may perhaps be somewhat of an exception : but 
partiality to ourselves is not; this being itself dishonesty. 
For a man to judge that to be the equitable, the moderate, 
the right part for him to act, which he would see to be hard, 
unjust, oppressive in another ; this is plain vice, and can 
proceed only from great unfairness of mind. 

But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within 
himself, yet it may be asked, " What obligations are we 
under to attend to and follow it?" I answer: it has been 
proved that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the 
particular distinct consideration of the positive sanctions of 
that law; the rewards and punishments which we feel, and 
those which from the light of reason we have ground to be- 
lieve, are annexed to it. The question then carries its own 
answer along with it. Your obligation to obey this law, is its 
being the law of your nature. That your conscience approves 
of and attests to such a course of action, is itself alone an 
obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to shew us 
the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own 
authority with it, that it is our natural guide; the guide as- 
signed us by the Author of our nature : it therefore belongs 
to our condition of being, it is our duty to walk in that path, 
and follow this guide, without looking about to see whether 
we may not possibly forsake them with impunity. 



46 



Upon Human Nature. 



SEllM. III. 



However, let us hear what is to be said against obeying 
this law of our nature. And the sum is no more than this. 
" Why should we be concerned about any thing out of 
and beyond ourselves ? If we do find within ourselves 
regards to others, and restraints of we know not how 
many different kinds ; yet these being embarrassments, 
and hindering us from going the nearest way to our own 
good, why should we not endeavour to suppress and get 
over them ?" 

Thus people go on with words, which, when applied to 
human nature, and the condition in which it is placed in this 
world, have really no meaning. For does not all this kind 
of talk go upon supposition, that our happiness in this world 
consists in somewhat quite distinct from regard to others ; 
and that it is the privilege of vice to be without restraint or 
confinement? Whereas, on the contrary, the enjoyments, in 
a manner all the common enjoyments of life, even the plea- 
sures of vice, depend upon these regards of one kind or an- 
other to our fellow-creatures. Throw off all regards to others, 
and we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour ; 
there could be no such thing at all as ambition ; and scarce 
any such thing as covetousness ; for we should likewise be 
equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty, the several 
neglects and kinds of contempt which accompany this state ; 
and to the reputation of riches, the regard and respect they 
usually procure. Neither is restraint by any means peculiar 
to one course of life : but our very nature, exclusive of con- 
science and our condition, lays us under an absolute necessity 
of it. We cannot gain any end whatever without being 
confined to the proper means, which is often the most painful 
and uneasy confinement. And in numberless instances a 
present appetite cannot be gratified without such apparent 
and immediate ruin and misery, that the most dissolute man 
in the world chooses to forego the pleasure, rather than en- 
dure the pain. 

Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to our fel- 
low-creatures, and submit to those restraints, which upon the 
whole are attended with more satisfaction than uneasiness, 
and get over only those which bring more uneasiness and in- 
convenience than satisfaction ? " Doubtless this was our 
meaning." You have changed sides then. Keep to this ; be 
consistent with yourselves ; and you and the men of virtue 
are in general perfectly agreed. But let us take care and 



SERM. III. 



Upon Human Nature. 



47 



avoid mistakes. Let it not be taken for granted that the 
temper of envy, rage, resentment, yields greater delight than 
meekness, forgiveness, compassion, and good-will : especially 
when it is acknowledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in 
themselves mere misery; and the satisfaction arising from 
the indulgence of them is little more than relief from that 
misery; whereas the temper of compassion and benevolence 
is itself delightful ; and the indulgence of it, by doing good, 
affords new positive delight and enjoyment. Let it not be 
taken for granted, that the satisfaction arising from the repu- 
tation of riches and power, however obtained, and from the 
respect paid to them, is greater than the satisfaction arising 
from the reputation of justice, honesty, charity, and the es- 
teem which is universally acknowledged to be their due. And 
if it be doubtful which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as 
there are persons who think neither of them very considerable, 
yet there can be no doubt concerning ambition and covetous- 
ness, virtue and a good mind, considered in themselves, and 
as leading to different courses of life ; there can, I say, be no 
doubt, which temper and which course is attended with most 
peace and tranquillity of mind, which with most perplexity, 
vexation, and inconvenience. And both the virtues and vices 
which have been now mentioned, do in a manner equally 
imply in them regards of one kind or another to our fellow- 
creatures. And with respect to restraint and confinement : 
whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame, the 
dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile compliances, 
one or other of which belong to almost every course of 
vice, will soon be convinced that the man of virtue is by no 
means upon a disadvantage in this respect. How many in- 
stances are there in which men feel and own and cry aloud 
under the chains of vice with which they are enthralled, and 
which yet they will not shake off! How many instances, 
in which persons manifestly go through more pains and self- 
denial to gratify a vicious passion, than would have been 
necessary to the conquest of it! To this is to be added, that 
when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of it is ac- 
quired, what was before confinement ceases to be so, by be- 
coming choice and delight. Whatever restraint and guard 
upon ourselves may be needful to unlearn any unnatural dis- 
tortion or odd gesture; yet, in all propriety of speech, natural 
behaviour must be the most easy and unrestrained. It is 
manifest that, in the common course of life, there is seldom 



48 



Upon Human Nature. serm. hi. 



any inconsistency between our duty and what is called in- 
terest : it is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency be- 
tween duty and what is really our present interest ; meaning 
by interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love then, 
though confined to the interest of the present world, does in 
general perfectly coincide with virtue; and leads us to one 
and the same course of life. But, whatever exceptions there 
are to this, which are much fewer than they are commonly 
thought, all shall be set right at the final distribution of 
things. It is a manifest absurdity to suppose evil prevailing 
finally over good, under the conduct and administration of a 
perfect mind. 

The whole argument, which I have been now insisting 
upon, may be thus summed up, and given you in one view. 
The nature of man is adapted to some course of action or 
other. Upon comparing some actions with this nature, they 
appear suitable and correspondent to it : from comparison of 
other actions with the same nature, there arises to our view 
some unsuitableness or disproportion. The correspondence 
of actions to the nature of the agent renders them natural : 
their disproportion to it, unnatural. That an action is cor- 
respondent to the nature of the agent, does not arise from its 
being agreeable to the principle which happens to be the 
strongest : for it may be so, and yet be quite disproportionate 
to the nature of the agent. The correspondence therefore, or 
disproportion, arises from somewhat else. This can be 
nothing but a difference in nature and kind, altogether 
distinct from strength, between the inward principles. Some 
then are in nature and kind superior to others. And the 
correspondence arises from the action being conformable to 
the higher principle; and the unsuitableness from its being 
contrary to it. Reasonable self-love and conscience are the 
chief or superior principles in the nature of man : because an 
action may be suitable to this nature, though all other prin- 
ciples be violated ; but becomes unsuitable, if either of those 
are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our true 
happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty and interest 
are perfectly coincident: for the most part in this world, but 
entirely and in every instance if we take in the future, and 
the whole; this being implied in the notion of a good and 
perfect administration of things. Thus they who have been 
so wise in their generation as to regard only their own sup- 
posed interest, at the expense and to the injury of others, shall 



serm. iv. Upon the Government of the Tongue. 49 

at last find, that he who has given up all the advantages of 
the present world, rather than violate his conscience and the 
relations of life, has infinitely better provided for himself, and 
secured his own interest and happiness. 

SERMON IV. 

UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 

If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but 
deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain. — James i. 26. 

The translation of this text would be more determinate 
by being more literal, thus : If any man among you seemeth 
to be religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own 
heart, this maris religion is vain. This determines, that the 
words, but deceiveth his own heart, are not put in opposition 
to, seemeth to be religious, but to, bridleth not his tongue. The 
certain determinate meaning of the text then being, that 
he who seemeth to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, 
but in that particular deceiveth his own heart, this man's re- 
ligion is vain ; we may observe somewhat very forcible and 
expressive in these words of St. James. As if the apostle had 
said, No man surely can make any pretences to religion, who 
does not at least believe that he bridleth his tongue : if he 
puts on any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not 
govern his tongue, he must surely deceive himself in that 
particular, and think he does : and whoever is so unhappy as 
to deceive himself in this, to imagine he keeps that unruly 
faculty in due subjection, when indeed he does not, whatever 
the other part of his life be, his religion is vain ; the govern- 
ment of the tongue being a most material restraint which 
virtue lays us under : without it no man can be truly re- 
ligious. 

In treating upon this subject, I will consider, 

First, What is the general vice or fault here referred to : or 
what disposition in men is supposed in moral reflections and 
precepts concerning bridling the tongue. 

Secondly, When it may be said of any one, that he has a 
due government over himself in this respect. 

L Now the fault referred to, and the disposition supposed, 
in precepts and reflections concerning the government of the 
tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice, nor lying or bearing 

BUTLER. D 



50 Upon the Government serm. iv. 

false witness from indirect selfish designs. The disposition 
to these, and the actual vices themselves, all come under 
other subjects. The tongue may be employed about, and 
made to serve all the purposes of vice, in tempting and 
deceiving, in perjury and injustice. But the thing here sup- 
posed and referred to, is talkativeness : a disposition to be 
talking, abstracted from the consideration of what is to be 
said ; with very little or no regard to, or thought of doing, 
either good or harm. And let not any imagine this to be a 
slight matter, and that it deserves not to have so great weight 
laid upon it ; till he has considered, what evil is implied in 
it, and the bad effects which follow from it. It is perhaps 
true, that they who are addicted to this folly would choose 
to confine themselves to trifles and indifferent subjects, and so 
intend only to be guilty of being impertinent: but as they 
cannot go on for ever talking of nothing, as common matters 
will not afford a sufficient fund for perpetual continued dis- 
course: when subjects of this kind are exhausted, they will 
go on to defamation, scandal, divulging of secrets, their own 
secrets as well as those of others, any thing rather than be 
silent. They are plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to 
say quite different things from what they first intended, and 
which they afterwards wish unsaid: or improper things, 
which they had no end in saying, but only to afford employ- 
ment to their tongue. And if these people expect to be 
heard and regarded, for there are some content merely with 
talking, they will invent to engage your attention: and, 
when they have heard the least imperfect hint of an affair^ 
they will out of their own head add the circumstances of 
time and place, and other matters to make out their story, and 
give the appearance of probability to it : not that they have 
any concern about being believed, otherwise than as a means 
of being heard. The thing is, to engage your attention ; to 
take you up wholly for the present time : what reflections 
will be made afterwards, is in truth the least of their thoughts. 
And further, when persons, who indulge themselves in these 
liberties of the tongue, are in any degree offended with an- 
other, as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be, they 
allow themselves to defame and revile such a one without 
any moderation or bounds; though the offence is so very 
slight, that they themselves would not do, nor perhaps wish 
him an injury in any other way. And in this case the 
scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to talkativeness, and 



SERM. IV. 



of the Tongue. 



51 



not bridling their tongue ; and so come under our present 
subject. The least occasion in the world will make the 
humour break out in this particular way, or in another. It is 
like a torrent, which must and will flow ; but the least thing 
imaginable will first of all give it either this or another direc- 
tion, turn it into this or that channel : or like a fire; the nature 
of which, when in a heap of combustible matter, is to spread 
and lay waste all around; but any one of a thousand little 
accidents will occasion it to break out first either in this or 
another particular part. 

The subject then before us, though it does run up into, 
and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct from all others ; 
yet it needs not be so much mixed or blended with them as 
it often is. Every faculty and power may be used as the 
instrument of premeditated vice and wickedness, merely as 
the most proper and effectual means of executing such de- 
signs. But if a man, from deep malice and desire of re- 
venge, should meditate a falsehood with a settled design to 
ruin his neighbour's reputation, and should with great cool- 
ness and deliberation spread it; nobody would choose to 
say of such a one, that he had no government of his tongue. 
A man may use the faculty of speech as an instrument of 
false-witness, who yet has so entire a command over that 
faculty, as never to speak but from forethought and cool 
design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury : and, 
strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present subject, 
than perjury and injustice in any other way. But there is 
such a thing as a disposition to be talking for its own sake ; 
from which persons often say any thing, good or bad, of 
others, merely as a subject of discourse, according to the 
particular temper they themselves happen to be in, and to 
pass away the present time. There is likewise to be ob- 
served in persons such a strong and eager desire of engaging 
attention to what they say, that they will speak good or evil, 
truth or otherwise, merely as one or the other seems to be 
most hearkened to : and this, though it is sometimes joined, 
is not the same with the desire of being thought important 
and men of consequence. There is in some such a dispo- 
sition to be talking, that an offence of the slightest kind, and 
such as would not raise any other resentment, yet raises, if I 
may so speak, the resentment of the tongue, puts it into a 
flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This outrage, 
when the person it respects is present, we distinguish in the 

d 2 



52 



Upon the Government 



SERM. IV. 



lower rank of people by a peculiar term : and let it be ob- 
served, that though the decencies of behaviour are a little 
kept, the same outrage and virulence, indulged when he is 
absent, is an offence of the same kind. But not to distin- 
guish any farther in this manner : men run into faults and 
follies, which cannot so properly be referred to any one ge- 
neral head as this, that they have not a due government 
over their tongue. 

And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of speech 
is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations in life. It 
begets resentment in him who is the subject of it ; sows the 
seed of strife and dissension amongst others ; and inflames 
little disgusts and offences, which if let alone would wear 
away of themselves : it is often of as bad effect upon the 
good name of others, as deep envy or malice : and, to say the 
least of it in this respect, it destroys and perverts a certain 
equity of the utmost importance to society to be observed ; 
namely, that praise and dispraise, a good or bad character, 
should always be bestowed according to desert. The tongue 
used in such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand 
of a madman ; it is employed at random, it can scarce pos- 
sibly do any good, and for the most part does a world of mis- 
chief ; and implies not only great folly and a trifling spirit, 
but great viciousness of mind, great indifference to truth 
and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and good of 
others. So much reason is there for what St. James says 
of the tongue. * It is a Jire, a world of iniquity, it defileth 
the whole body, setteth on fire the course of nature, and is 
itself set on fire of hell. This is the faculty or disposition 
which we are required to keep a guard upon: these are 
the vices and follies it runs into, when not kept under due 
restraint. 

II. Wherein the due government of the tongue con- 
sists, or when it may be said of any one in a moral and 
religious sense that he bridleth his tongue, I come now to 
consider. 

The due and proper use of any natural faculty or power, 
is to be judged of by the end and design for which it was 
given us. The chief purpose, for which the faculty of speech 
was given to man, is plainly that we might communicate 
our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs 
of the world ; for business, and for our improvement in 

* Chap. iii. ver. 6. 



SERM. IV. 



of the Tongue. 



53 



knowledge and learning. But the good Author of our na- 
ture designed us not only necessaries, but likewise enjoy- 
ment and satisfaction, in that being he hath graciously given, 
and in that condition of life he hath placed us in. There 
are secondary uses of our faculties : they administer to de- 
light, as well as to necessity : and as they are equally adapted 
to both, there is no doubt but he intended them for our gra- 
tification, as well as for the support and continuance of our 
being. The secondary use of speech is to please and be 
entertaining to each other in conversation. This is in every 
respect allowable and right : it unites men closer in alliances 
and friendships ; gives us a fellow-feeling of the prosperity 
and unhappiness of each other ; and is in several respects ser- 
viceable to virtue, and to promote good behaviour in the 
world, And provided there be not too much time spent in 
it, if it were considered only in the way of gratification and 
delight, men must have strange notions of God and of reli- 
gion, to think that he can be offended with it, or that it is any 
way inconsistent with the strictest virtue. But the truth is, 
such sort of conversation, though it has no particular good 
tendency, yet it has a general good one : it is social and 
friendly, and tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and 
civility. 

As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech, relates 
to the one or other of these ; either to business, or to con- 
versation. As to the former ; deceit in the management of 
business and affairs does not properly belong to the subject 
now before us : though one may just mention that multitude, 
that endless number of words, with which business es per- 
plexed ; when a much fewer would, as it should seem, 
better serve the purpose : but this must be left to those who 
understand the matter. The government of the tongue, con- 
sidered as a subject of itself, relates chiefly to conversation ; 
to that kind of discourse which usually fills up the time 
spent in friendly meetings, and visits of civility. And the 
danger is, lest Dersons entertain themselves and others at the 
expense of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury 
or offence of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep 
clear of these, they may be as free, and easy, and unreserved, 
as they can desire. 

The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers, and 
to render conversation innocent and agreeable, fall under 
the following particulars : silence ;" talking of indifferent 



54 



Upon the Government 



SERM. IV. 



things; and which makes up too great a part of conversation, 
giving of characters, speaking well or evil of others. 

The Wise Man observes, that there is a time to speak, and 
a time to keep silence. One meets with people in the world, 
who seem never to have made the last of these observations. 
And yet these great talkers do not at all speak from their 
having any thing to say, as every sentence shews, but only 
from their inclination to be talking. Their conversation is 
merely an exercise of the tongue : no other human faculty 
has any share in it. It is strange these persons can help 
reflecting, that unless they have in truth a superior capacity, 
and are in an extraordinary manner furnished for conver- 
sation ; if they are entertaining, it is at their own expense. 
Is it possible, that it should never come into peoples thoughts 
to suspect, whether or no it be to their advantage to shew 
so very much of themselves ? O that you would altogether 
hold your peace, and it should be your wisdom* Remember 
likewise there are persons who love fewer words, an inoffen- 
sive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though of 
too still and composed tempers for you. Of this number 
was the son of Sirach : for he plainly speaks from experi- 
ence, when he says, As hills of sands are to the steps of the 
aged, so is one of many words to a quiet man. But one would 
think it should be obvious to every one, that when they are 
in company with their superiors of any kind, in years, know- 
ledge, and experience : when proper and useful subjects are 
discoursed of, which they cannot bear a part in ; that these 
are times for silence : when they should learn to hear, and 
be attentive ; at least in their turn. It is indeed a very un- 
happy way these people are in : they in a manner cut them- 
selves out from all advantage of conversation, except that of 
being entertained with their own talk : their business in com- 
ing into company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to 
learn ; but to display themselves ; or rather to exert their 
faculty, and talk without any design at all. And if we con- 
sider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat to un- 
bend the mind ; as a diversion from the cares, the business, 
and the sorrows of life ; it is of the very nature of it, that 
the discourse be mutual. This, I say, is implied in the very 
notion of what we distinguish by conversation, or being in 
company. Attention to the continued discourse of one alone 
grows more painful often, than the cares and business we 

* Job xiii. 



SERM. IV. 



of the Tongue. 



55 



come to be diverted from. He therefore who imposes this 
upon us is guilty of a double offence ; arbitrarily enjoining 
silence upon all the rest, and likewise obliging them to this 
painful attention. 

I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, as 
too little to come into a serious discourse : but in reality men 
are obliged, even in point of morality and virtue, to observe 
all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest evils in life 
have had their rise from somewhat, which was thought of 
too little importance to be attended to. And as to the matter 
we are now upon, it is absolutely necessary to be considered. 
For if people will not maintain a due government over them- 
selves, in regarding proper times and seasons for silence, but 
will be talking ; they certainly, whether they design it or not 
at first, will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulg- 
ing secrets. 

If it were needful to say any thing further, to persuade 
men to learn this lesson of silence ; one might put them in 
mind, how insignificant they render themselves by this ex- 
cessive talkativeness : insomuch that, if they do chance to 
say any thing which deserves to be attended to and regarded, 
it is lost in the variety and abundance which they utter of 
another sort. 

The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one would 
think should be easily distinguished by every body : namely, 
when a man has nothing to say; or nothing, but what is 
better unsaid : better, either in regard to particular persons 
he is present with ; or from its being an interruption to con- 
versation itself ; or to conversation of a more agreeable kind ; 
or better, lastly, with regard to himself. I will end this par- 
ticular with two reflections of the Wise Man : one of which, 
in the strongest manner, exposes the ridiculous part of this 
licentiousness of the tongue ; and the other, the great danger 
and viciousness of it. When he that is a foolwalketh by the 
way side, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one 
that he is a fool* The other is, In the multitude of words 
there wanteth not sin.']' 

As to the government of the tongue in respect to talking 
upon indifferent subjects ; after what has been said concern- 
ing the due government of it in respect to the occasions and 
times for silence, there is little more necessary, than only to 
caution men to be fully satisfied, that the subjects are indeed 
* Eccles.x. 3. f Prov. x. 19. 



56 



Upon the Government 



SERM. IV. 



of an indifferent nature ; and not to spend too much time in 
conversation of this kind. But persons must be sure to take 
heed, that the subject of their discourse be at least of an in- 
different nature : that it be no way offensive to virtue, reli- 
gion, or good manners ; that it be not of a licentious disso- 
lute sort, this leaving always ill impressions upon the mind ; 
that it be no way injurious or vexatious to others ; and that 
too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of those 
duties and offices of life which belong to their station and 
condition in the world. However, though there is not any 
necessity that men should aim at being important and weighty 
in every sentence they speak: yet since useful subjects, at 
least of some kinds, are as entertaining as others ; a wise 
man, even when he desires to unbend his mind from business, 
would choose that the conversation might turn upon some- 
what instructive. 

The last thing is, the government of the tongue as relating 
to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of characters. 
These are in a manner the same : and one can scarce call it 
an indifferent subject, because discourse upon it almost per- 
petually runs into somewhat criminal. 

And first of all, it were very much to be wished that this 
did not take up so great a part of conversation ; because it 
is indeed a subject of a dangerous nature. Let any one con- 
sider the various interests, competitions, and little misunder- 
standings which arise amongst men ; and he will soon see, 
that he is not unprejudiced and impartial ; that he is not, as 
I may speak, neutral enough, to trust himself with talking of 
the character and concerns of his neighbour, in a free, care- 
less, and unreserved manner. There is perpetually, and often 
it is not attended to, a rivalship amoiagst people of one kind 
or another, in respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and 
that one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to the 
disadvantage of others, even where there is no formed malice 
or ill design. Since therefore it is so hard to enter into this 
subject without offending, the first thing to be observed is, 
that people should learn to decline it; to get over that strong 
inclination most have to be talking of the concerns and be- 
haviour of their neighbour. 

But since it is impossible that this subject should be wholly 
excluded conversation ; and since it is necessary that the 
characters of men should be known : the next thing is, that 
it is a matter of importance what is said ; and therefore, that 



SERM. IV. 



of the Tongue. 



57 



we should be religiously scrupulous and exact to say nothing 1 , 
either good or bad, but what is true. I put it thus, because 
it is in reality of as great importance to the good of society, 
that the characters of bad men should be known, as that the 
characters of good men should. People, who are given to 
scandal and detraction, may indeed make an ill use of this 
observation ; but truths which are of service towards regu- 
lating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even concealed 
because a bad use may be made of them. This however 
would be effectually prevented, if these two things were at- 
tended to. First, That, though it is equally of bad conse- 
quence to society, that men should have either good or ill 
characters which they do not deserve ; yet, when you say 
somewhat good of a man which he does not deserve, there is 
no wrong done him in particular ; whereas, when you say 
evil of a man which he does not deserve, here is a direct 
formal injury, a real piece of injustice done him. This there- 
fore makes a wide difference ; and gives us, in point of virtue, 
much greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others. 
Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow-creatures, and 
a lover of mankind ; and so will, upon every occasion, and 
often without any, say all the good he can of every body : 
but so far as he is a good man, will never be disposed to 
speak evil of any, unless there be some other reason for it, 
besides barely that it is true. If he be charged with having 
given an ill character, he will scarce think it a sufficient jus- 
tification of himself to say it was a true one, unless he can 
also give some further account how he came to do so : a just 
indignation against particular instances of villany, where they 
are great and scandalous ; or to prevent an innocent man from 
being deceived and betrayed, when he has great trust and 
confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice must be 
done to every part of a subject when we are considering it. 
If there be a man, who bears a fair character in the world, 
whom yet we know to be without faith or honesty, to be 
really an ill man ; it must be allowed in general, that we 
shall do a piece of service to society, by letting such a one's 
true character be known. This is no more than what we 
have an instance of in our Saviour himself ; though he was 
mild and gentle beyond example. However, no words can 
express too strongly the caution which should be used in such 
a case as this. 

* Mark xii. 38. 40. 



58 



Upon Compassion. 



SERM. V. 



Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the ob- 
vious occasions of silence, if they would subdue the inclina- 
tions to tale-bearing, and that eager desire to engage atten- 
tion, which is an original disease in some minds ; they 
would be in little danger of offending with their tongue; 
and would, in a moral and religious sense, have due govern- 
ment over it. 

I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of the 
Son of Sirach upon this subject. Be swift to hear ; and, if 
thou hast understanding, answer thy ?ieighbour; if not, lay 
thy hand upon thy mouth. Honour and shame is in talk. A 
man of an ill tongue is dangerous in his city, and he that is 
rash in his talk shall be hated. A wise man will hold his 
tongue till he see opportunity ; but a babbler and a fool will 
regard no time. He that useth many words shall be abhorred; 
and he that taketh to himself authority therein, shall be hated. 
A backbiting tongue hath disquieted many ; strong cities hath 
it pulled down, and overthrown the houses of great men. The 
tongue of a man is his fall ;j but if thou love to hear thoushalt 
receive understanding. 

SERMON V. 

UPON COMPASSION. 

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. 
Rom. xii. 15. 

Every man is to be considered in two capacities, the private 
and public ; as designed to pursue his own interest, and like- 
wise to contribute to the good of others. Whoever will con- 
sider, may see, that in general there is no contrariety between 
these; but that from the original constitution of man, and the 
circumstances he is placed in, they perfectly coincide, and 
mutually carry on each other. But, amongst the great va- 
riety of affections or principles of action in our nature, some 
in their primary intention and design seem to belong to the 
single or private, others to the public or social capacity. The 
affections required in the text are of the latter sort. When 
we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and compassionate 
their distresses, we, as it were, substitute them for ourselves, 
their interest for our own; and have the same kind of pleasure 
in their prosperity, and sorrow in their distress, as we have 



serm. v. Upon Compassion. 59 

from reflection upon our own. Now there is nothing strange 
or unaccountable in our being thus carried out, and affected 
towards the interests of others. For, if there be any appetite, 
or any inward principle besides self-love; why may there not 
be an affection to the good of our fellow-creatures, and de- 
light from that affections being gratified, and uneasiness from 
things going contrary to it?* 

* There being manifestly this appearance of men's substituting others 
for themselves, and being carried out and affected towards them as to- 
wards themselves ; some persons, who have a system which excludes every 
affection of this sort, have taken a pleasant method to solve it; and tell 
you it is not another you are at all concerned about, but your self only, when 
you feel the affection called compassion, i. e. Here is a plain matter of 
fact, which men cannot reconcile with the general account they think fit 
to give of things: they therefore, instead of that manifest fact, substitute 
another, which is reconcileable to their own scheme. For does not every 
body by compassion mean an affection, the object of which is another in 
distress? Instead of this, but designing to have it mistaken for this, they 
speak of an affection or passion, the object of which is ourselves, or danger 
to ourselves. Hobbes defines pity, imagination, or fiction of future calamity 
to ourselves, proceeding from the sense (he means sight or knowledge) of 
another mans calamity. Thus fear and compassion would be the same 
idea, and a fearful and a compassionate man the same character, which 
every man immediately sees are totally different. Further, to those who 
give any scope to their affections, there is no perception or inward feeling 
more universal than this: that one who has been merciful and compas- 
sionate throughout the course of his behaviour, should himself be treated 
with kindness, if he happens to fall into circumstances of distress. Is 
fear, then, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the favour of the 
bulk of mankind? Or is it not plain, that mere fearlessness (and there- 
fore not the contrary) is one of the most popular qualifications? This 
shews that mankind are not affected towards compassion as fear, but as 
I somewhat totally different. 

Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections 
which are favourable and friendly to our fellow-creatures, than to substi- 
tute the definitions, which this author, and others who follow his steps, 
give of such affections, instead of the words by which they are commonly 
expressed. Hobbes, after having laid down, that pity or compassion is 
only fear for ourselves, goes on to explain the reason why we pity our 
friends in distress more than others. Now substitute the definition instead 
of the word pity in this place, and the inquiry will be, why we fear our 
friends, &c. which words (since he really does not mean why we are afraid 
of them) make no question or sentence at all. So that common language, 
the words to compassionate, to pity, cannot be accommodated to his ac- 
count of compassion. The very joining of the words to pity our friends, 
is a direct contradiction to his definition of pity: because those words, so 
joined, necessarily express that our friends are the objects of the passion: 
whereas his definition of it asserts, that ourselves (or danger to ourselves) 
are the only objects of it. He might indeed have avoided this absurdity, 
by plainly saying what he is going to account for; namely, why the sight 
of the innocent, or of our friends in distress, raises greater fear for our- 



60 



Upon Compassion. 



serm. v. 



Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and com- 
passion for their distresses, the last is felt much more gene- 
rally than the former. Though men do not universally rejoice 

selves than the sight of other persons in distress. But had he put the 
thing thus plainly, the fact itself would have been doubted; that the sight 
of our friends in distress raises in ns greater fear for ourselves, than the sight 
of others in distress. And in the next place it would immediately have 
occurred to every one, that the fact now mentioned, which at least is 
doubtful, whether true or false, was not the same with this fact, which 
nobody ever doubted, that the sight of our friends in distress raises in us 
greater compassion than the sight of others in distress: every one, I say, 
would have seen that these are not the same, but two different inquiries; 
and consequently, that fear and compassion are not the same. Suppose 
a person to be in real danger, and by some means or other to have forgot 
it; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall the danger to 
his remembrance, and renew his fear: but it is almost too grossly ridicu- 
lous (though it is to shew an absurdity) to speak of that sound or accident 
as an object of compassion ; and yet, according to Mr. Hobbes, our 
greatest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the object of com- 
pasion, or of any affection in our heart: neither the one nor the other 
raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thoughts of our liableness to 
calamity, and the fear of it; and both equally do this. It is fit such 
sort of accounts of human nature should be shewn to be what they really 
are, because there is raised upon them a general scheme which undermines 
the whole foundation of common justice and honesty. See Hobbes of 
Human Nature, c. 9. §. 10. 

There are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon sight 
of persons in distress : real sorrow and concern for the misery of our fellow- 
creatures ; some degree of satisfaction from a consciousness of our free- 
dom from that misery ; and as the mind passes on from one thing to ano- 
ther, it is not unnatural from such an occasion to reflect upon our liable- 
ness to the same or other calamities. The two last frequently accompany 
the first, but it is the first only which is proper compassion, of which the 
distressed are objects, and which directly carries us with calmness and 
thought to their assistance. m Any one of these, from various and compli- 
cated reasons may in particular cases prevail over the other two; and 
there are, I suppose, instances, where the bare sight of distress, without our 
feeling any compassion for it, may be the occasion of either or both of the 
two latter perceptions. One might add, that if there be really any such 
thing as the fiction or imagination of danger to ourselves from the sight 
of the misery of others, which Hobbes speaks of, and which he has ab- 
surdly mistaken for the whole of compassion ; if there be any thing of 
this sort common to mankind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it 
would be a most remarkable instance of what was furthest from the 
thoughts, namely, of a mutual sympathy between each particular of the 
species, a fellow-feeling common to mankind. It would not indeed be an 
example of our substituting others for ourselves, but it would be an ex- 
ample of substituting ourselves for others. And as it would not be an 
instance of benevolence, so neither would it be an instance of self-love: 
for this phantom of danger to ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight 
of the distresses of others, would be no more an instance of love to our- 
selves, than the pain of hunger is. 



SERM. V. 



Upon Compassion. 



61 



with all whom they see rejoice, yet, accidental obstacles re- 
moved, they naturally compassionate all, in some degree, 
whom they see in distress ; so far as they have any real per- 
ception or sense of that distress: insomuch that words 
expressing this latter, pity, compassion, frequently occur; 
whereas we have scarce any single one, by which the former 
is distinctly expressed. Congratulation indeed answers con- 
dolence: but bpth these words are intended to signify certain 
forms of civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling. 
This difference or inequality is so remarkable, that we plainly 
consider compassion as itself an original, distinct, particular 
affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice in the good of 
others, is only a consequence of the general affection of love 
and good-will to them. The reason and account of which 
matter is this : when a man has obtained any particular ad- 
vantage or felicity, his end is gained ; and he does not in that 
particular want the assistance of another: there was therefore 
no need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of another 
already obtained ; neither would such affection directly carry 
him on to do good to that person: whereas men in distress 
want assistance ; and compassion leads us directly to assist 
them. The object of the former is the present felicity of ano- 
ther; the object of the latter is the present misery of another. 
It is easy to see that the latter wants a particular affection for 
its relief, and that the former does not want one, because it 
does not want assistance. And upon supposition of a dis- 
tinct affection in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise 
of itself, having nothing further to gain ; the other does not 
rest in itself, but carries us on to assist the distressed. 

But, supposing these affections natural to the mind, par- 
ticularly the last; " Has not each man troubles enough of 
his own ? must he indulge an affection which appropriates to 
himself those of others? which leads him to contract the least 
desirable of all friendships, friendships with the unfortunate? 
Must we invert the known rule of prudence, and choose to 
associate ourselves with the distressed? or, allowing that we 
ought, so far as it is in our power to relieve them, yet is it 
not better to do this from reason and duty ? Does not passion 
and affection of every kind perpetually mislead us ? Nay, is 
not passion and affection itself a weakness, and what a perfect 
being must be entirely free from ?" Perhaps so : but is it 
mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and who na- 
turally and, from the condition we are placed in, necessarily 



62 



Upon Compassion. 



SERM. V. 



depend upon each other. With respect to such creatures, it 
would be found of as bad consequence to eradicate all na- 
tural affections, as to be entirely governed by them. This 
would almost sink us to the condition of brutes; and that 
would leave us without a sufficient principle of action. Rea- 
son alone, whatever any one may wish, is not in reality a 
sufficient motive of virtue in such a creature as man; but this 
reason joined with those affections which God has impressed 
upon his heart : and when these are allowed scope to exer- 
cise themselves, but under strict government and direction of 
reason ; then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to the 
circumstances God has placed us in. Neither is affection 
itself at all a weakness ; nor does it argue defect, any other- 
wise than as our senses and appetites do ; they belong to our 
condition of nature, and are what we cannot do without. God 
Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved by passion or appetite, un- 
changed by affection: but then it is to be added, that he 
neither sees, nor hears, nor perceives things by any senses 
like ours; but in a manner infinitely more perfect. Now, as 
it is an absurdity almost too gross to be mentioned, for a man 
to endeavour to get rid of his senses, because the Supreme 
Being discerns things more perfectly without them ; it is a 
real, though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to 
eradicate the passions he has given us, because he is without 
them. For, since our passions are as really a part of our 
constitution as our senses; since the former as really belong 
to our condition of nature as the latter; to get rid of either is 
equally a violation of and breaking in upon that nature and 
constitution he has given us. Both our senses and our pas- 
sions are a supply to the imperfection of our nature : thus 
they shew that we are such sort of creatures, as to stand in 
need of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not. 
But it is not the supply, but the deficiency; as it is not a 
remedy, but a disease, which is the imperfection. However, 
our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply disease: nor 
indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfection of any sort; 
but only this, that the constitution of nature, according to 
which God has made us, is such as to require them. And 
it is far from being true, that a wise man must entirely sup- 
press compassion, and all fellow-feeling for others, as a weak- 
ness ; and trust to reason alone to teach and enforce upon 
him the practice of the several charities we owe to our kind ; 
that, on the contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections 



SERM. V. 



Upon Compassion . 



63 



would itself be for the good and happiness of the world ; and 
the imperfection of the higher principles of reason and reli- 
gion in man, the little influence they have upon our practice, 
and the strength and prevalency of contrary ones, plainly re- 
quire these affections to be a restraint upon these latter, and a 
supply to the deficiencies of the former. 

First, The very exercise itself of these affections in a just 
and reasonable manner and degree, would upon the whole 
increase the satisfactions, and lessen the miseries of life. 

It is the tendency and business of virtue and religion to 
procure, as much as may be, universal good-will, trust, and 
friendship amongst mankind. If this could be brought to 
obtain ; and each man enjoyed the happiness of others, as 
every one does that of a friend ; and looked upon the success 
and prosperity of his neighbour, as every one does upon that 
of his children and family; it is too manifest to be insisted 
upon, how much the enjoyments of life would be increased. 
There would be so much happiness introduced into the world, 
without any deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion 
as the precept of rejoicing with those who rejoice was univer- 
sally obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this good affection 
as belonging to our nature, in the parable of the lost sheep ; 
and does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect state, 
to represent its happiness as capable of increase, from reflec- 
tion upon that of others. 

But since in such a creature as man, compassion or sorrow 
for the distress of others seems so far necessarily connected 
with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever rejoices in one 
must unavoidably compassionate the other ; there cannot be 
that delight or satisfaction which appears to be so consider- 
able, without the inconveniences, whatever they are, of com- 
passion. 

However, without considering this connexion, there is no 
doubt but that more good than evil, more delight than sorrow, 
arises from compassion itself ; there being so many things 
which balance the sorrow of it. There is first the relief 
which the distressed feel from this affection in others towards 
them. There is likewise the additional misery which they 
would feel from the reflection, that no one commiserated their 
case. It is indeed true, that any disposition, prevailing be- 
yond a certain degree, becomes somewhat wrong ; and we 
have ways of speaking, which, though they do not directly 
express that excess, yet, always lead our thoughts to it, and 



64 



Upon Compassion. 



serm. v. 



give us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is made of 
delight in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind the 
notion of somewhat which is really a weakness : the manner 
of speaking, I say, implies a certain weakness and feebleness 
of mind, which is and ought to be disapproved. But men 
of the greatest fortitude would in distress feel uneasiness, 
from knowing that no person in the world had any sort of 
compassion or real concern for them ; and in some cases, 
especially when the temper is enfeebled by sickness, or any 
long and great distress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief 
even from the helpless good-will and ineffectual assistances 
of those about them. Over against the sorrow of compassion 
is likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction, which 
accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress of another 
is by some means so brought home to ourselves, as to become 
in a manner our own ; or when from weakness of mind the 
affection rises too high, which ought to be corrected. This 
tranquillity or calm satisfaction proceeds partly from con- 
sciousness of a right affection and temper of mind, and partly 
from a sense of our own freedom from the misery we com- 
passionate. This last may possibly appear to some at first 
sight faulty; but it really is not so. It is the same with that 
positive enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the 
present affords, arising from a real sense of misery, joined 
with a sense of our freedom from it ; which in all cases must 
afford some degree of satisfaction. 

To these things must be added the observation, which 
respects both the affections we are considering ; that they 
who have got over all fellow-feeling for others, have withal 
contracted a certain callousness of heart, which renders 
them insensible to most other satisfactions, but those of the 
grossest kind. 

Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections men 
would certainly be much more wanting in the offices of cha- 
rity they owe to each other, and likewise more cruel and 
injurious, than they are at present. 

The private interest of the individual would not be suffi- 
ciently provided for by reasonable and cool self-love alone ; 
therefore the appetites and passions are placed within as a 
guard and further security, without which it would not be 
taken due care of. It is manifest our life would be neglected, 
were it not for the calls of hunger, and thirst, and weariness ; 
notwithstanding that without them reason would assure us, 



seiui. v. Upon Compassion. 65 

that the recruits of food and sleep are the necessary means of 
our preservation. It is therefore absurd to imagine, that 
without affection, the same reason alone would be more effec- 
tual to engage us to perform the duties we owe to our fellow- 
creatures. One of this make would be as defective, as much 
wanting, considered with respect to society, as one of the 
former make would be defective, or wanting, considered as 
an individual, or in his private capacity. Is it possible any 
can in earnest think, that a public spirit, i. e. a settled rea- 
sonable principle of benevolence to mankind, is so prevalent 
and strong in the species, as that we may venture to throw 
off the under affections, which are its assistants, carry it for- 
ward and mark out particular courses for it ; family, friends, 
neighbourhood, the distressed, our country? The common 
joys and the common sorrows, which belong to these relations 
and circumstances, are as plainly useful to society, as the pain 
and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and weariness, are 
of service to the individual. In defect of that higher prin- 
ciple of reason, compassion is often the only way by which 
the indigent can have access to us : and therefore, to eradi- 
cate this, though it is not indeed formally to deny them that 
assistance which is their due ; yet it is to cut them off frcm 
that which is too frequently their only way of obtaining it. 
And as for those who have shut up this door against the com- 
plaints of the miserable, and conquered this affection in them- 
selves ; even these persons will be under great restraints from 
the same affection in others. Thus a man who has himself v 
no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be kept from 
running the utmost lengths of wickedness, by fear of that 
detestation, and even resentment of inhumanity, in many par- 
ticular instances of it, which compassion for the object to- 
wards whom such inhumanity is exercised, excites in the 
bulk of mankind. And this is frequently the chief danger, 
and the chief restraint, which tyrants and the great oppressors 
of the world feel. 

In general, experience will shew, that as want of natural 
appetite to food supposes and proceeds from some bodily 
disease ; so the apathy the Stoics talk of, as much supposes, 
or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss in the moral cha- 
racter, in that which is the health of the mind. Those who 
formerly aimed at this upon the foot of philosophy, appear 
to have had better success in eradicating the affections of 
tenderness and compassion, than they had with the passions 

BUTLER. E 



66 



Upon Compassion. 



SERM. V. 



of envy, pride, and resentment : these latter, at best, were 
but concealed, and that imperfectly too. How far this obser- 
vation maybe extended to such as endeavour to suppress the 
natural impulses of their affections, in order to form them- 
selves for business and the world, I shall not determine. But 
there does not appear any capacity or relation to be named, 
in which men ought to be entirely deaf to the calls of affec- 
tion, unless the judicial one is to be excepted. 

And as to those who are commonly called the men of 
pleasure, it is manifest, that the reason they set up for hard- 
ness of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in their course, 
by the ruin and misery they are the authors of : neither are 
persons of this character always the most free from the impo- 
tencies of envy and resentment. What may men at last 
bring themselves to, by suppressing their passions and affec- 
tions of one kind, and leaving those of the other in their full 
strength ? But surely it might be expected that persons who 
make pleasure their study and their business, if they under- 
stood what they profess, would reflect, how many of the 
entertainments of life, how many of those kind of amuse- 
ments which seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and 
education, they become insensible to by this acquired hard- 
ness of heart. 

I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning the 
behaviour of that divine Person, who was the example of all 
perfection in human nature, as represented in the Gospels 
mourning, and even, in a literal sense, weeping over the 
distresses of his creatures. 

The observation already made, that, of the two affections 
mentioned in the text, the latter exerts itself much more than 
the former; that, from the original constitution of human 
nature, we much more generally and sensibly compassionate 
the distressed, than rejoice with the prosperous, requires to 
be particularly considered. This observation, therefore, 
with the reflections which arise out of it, and which it leads 
our thoughts to, shall be the subject of another discourse. 

For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of the 
danger of over-great refinements ; of going besides or beyond 
the plain, obvious, first appearances of things, upon the sub- 
ject of morals and religion. The least observation will shew, 
how little the generality of men are capable of speculations. 
Therefore morality and religion must be somewhat plain and 
easy to be understood : it must appeal to what we call plain 



serm. vi. Upon Compassion . 67 



common sense, as distinguished from superior capacity and 
improvement ; because it appeals to mankind. Persons of 
superior capacity and improvement have often fallen into 
errors, which no one of mere common understanding could. 
Is it possible that one of this latter character could ever of 
himself have thought, that there was absolutely no such thing 
in mankind as affection to the good of others ? suppose of 
parents to their children ; or that what he felt upon seeing a 
friend in distress was only fear for himself ; or, upon suppo- 
sition of the affections of kindness and compassion, that it 
was the business of wisdom and virtue to set him about 
extirpating them as fast as he could ? And yet each of these 
manifest contradictions to nature has been laid down by men 
of speculation, as a discovery in moral philosophy; which 
they, it seems, have found out through all the specious 
appearances to the contrary. This reflection may be ex- 
tended further. The extravagancies of enthusiasm and super- 
stition do not at all lie in the road of common sense ; and 
therefore, so far as they are original mistakes, must be owing 
to going beside or beyond it. Now, since inquiry and exa- 
mination can relate only to things so obscure and uncertain 
as to stand in need of it, and to persons who are capable of 
it; the proper advice to be given to plain honest men, to 
secure them from the extremes both of superstition and irre- 
ligion, is that of the son of Sirach : In every good work trust 
thy own soul ; for this is the keeping of the commandment* 

SERMON VI. 

UPON COMPASSION. 

PREACHED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. 

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep, — Rom. xii. 15. 

There is a much more exact correspondeuce between the 
natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of. 
The inward frame of man does in a peculiar manner answer 
to the external condition and circumstances of life, in which 
he is placed. This is a particular instance of that general 
observation of the son of Sirach : All things are double one 
against another, and God hath made nothing imperfecta 
The several passions and affections in the heart of man, com- 

* Ecclus. xxxii. 23. f Ecclus. xlii. 24. 

E 2 



68 



Upon Compassion. 



SERM. VI. 



pared with the circumstances of life in which he is placed, 
afford, to such as will attend to them, as certain instances of 
final causes, as any whatever, which are more commonly 
alleged for such: since those affections lead him to a certain 
determinate course of action suitable to those circumstances ; 
as (for instance) compassion, to relieve the distressed. And 
as all observations of final causes, drawn from the principles 
of action in the heart of man, compared with the condition 
he is placed in, serve all the good uses which instances of 
final causes in the material world about us do ; and both 
these are equally proofs of wisdom and design in the Author 
of nature: so the former serve to further good purposes; 
they shew us what course of life we are made for, what is 
our duty, and in a peculiar manner enforce upon us the prac- 
tice of it. 

Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in 
degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are capable of 
the latter for a much longer time, beyond all comparison. 
We see men in the tortures of pain for hours, days, and, 
excepting the short suspensions of sleep, for months together, 
without intermission ; to which no enjoyments of life do, in 
degree and continuance, bear any sort of proportion. And 
such is our make and that of the world about us, that any 
thing may become the instrument of pain and sorrow to us. 
Thus almost any one man is capable of doing mischief to any 
other, though he may not be capable of doing him good : 
and if he be capable of doing him some good, he is capable 
of doing him more evil. And it is, in numberless cases, much 
more in our power to lessen the miseries of others, than to 
promote their positive happiness, any otherwise than as the 
former often includes the latter ; ease from misery occasioning 
for some time the greatest positive enjoyment. This consti- 
tution of nature, namely, that it is so much more in our 
power to occasion and likewise to lessen misery, than to pro-^ 
mote positive happiness, plainly required a particular affec- 
tion, to hinder us from abusing, and to incline us to make a 
right use of the former powers, i. e. the powers both to occa- 
sion and to lessen misery ; over and above what was neces- 
sary to induce us to make a right use of the latter power, that 
of promoting positive happiness. The power we have over 
the misery of our fellow-creatures, to occasion or lessen it, 
being a more important trust than the power we have of pro- 
moting their positive happiness; the former requires and has 



SERM. VI. 



Upon Compassion. 



69 



a further, an additional security and guard against its being- 
violated, beyond and over and above what the latter has. 
The social nature of man, and general good-will to his 
species, equally prevent him from doing evil, incline him to 
relieve the distressed, and to promote the positive happiness 
of his fellow-creatures : but compassion only restrains from 
the first, and carries him to the second ; it hath nothing to 
do with the third. 

The final causes then of compassion are to prevent and to 
relieve misery. 

As to the former : this affection may plainly be a restraint 
j upon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-love ; that is, upon 
all the principles from which men do evil to one another. 
Let us instance only in resentment. It seldom happens, in 
regulated societies, that men have an enemy so entirely in 
their power, as to be able to satiate their resentment with 
safety. But if we were to put this case, it is plainly sup- 
posable, that a person might bring his enemy into such a con- 
dition, as from being the object of anger and rage, to become 
an object of compassion, even to himself, though the most 
malicious man in the world : and in this case compassion 
would stop him, if he could stop with safety, from pursuing 
his revenge any further. But since nature has placed within 
us more powerful restraints to prevent mischief, and since 
the final cause of compassion is much more to relieve misery, 
let us go on to the consideration of it in this view. 

As this world was not intended to be a state of any great 
satisfaction or high enjoyment ; so neither was it intended to 
be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow. Mitigations 
and reliefs are provided by the merciful Author of nature, 
for most of the afflictions in human life. There is kind 
provision made even against our frailties ; as we are so con- 
stituted, that time abundantly abates our sorrows, and begets 
in us that resignment of temper, which ought to have been 
produced by a better cause ; a due sense of the authority of 
God, and our state of dependence. This holds in respect to 
far the greatest part of the evils of life; I suppose, in some 
degree as to pain and sickness. Now this part of the con- 
stitution or make of man, considered as some relief to misery, 
and not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I may so 
speak, an instance of nature's compassion for us ; and every 
natural remedy or relief to misery may be considered in the 
same view. 



70 



Upon Compassion. 



SEKM. VI. 



But since in many cases it is very much in our power to 
alleviate the miseries of each other ; and benevolence, though 
natural in man to man, yet is in a very low degree kept down 
by interest and competitions ; and men, for the most part, 
are so engaged in the business and pleasures of the world, 
as to overlook and turn away from objects of misery ; which 
are plainly considered as interruptions to them in their way, 
as intruders upon their business, their gaiety and mirth ; com- 
passion is an advocate within us in their behalf, to gain the 
unhappy admittance and access, to make their case attended 
to. If it sometimes serves a contrary purpose, and makes 
men industriously turn away from the miserable, these are 
only instances of abuse and perversion : for the end, for 
which the affection was given us, most certainly is not to 
make us avoid, but to make us attend to, the objects of it. 
And if men would only resolve to allow thus much to it; let 
it bring before their view, the view of their mind, the miseries 
of their fellow-creatures; let it gain for them that their case 
be considered ; I am persuaded it would not fail of gaining 
more, and that very few real objects of charity would pass 
unrelieved. Pain and sorrow and misery have a right to our 
assistance : compassion puts us in mind of the debt, and that 
we owe it to ourselves as well as to the distressed. For, to 
endeavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by turning 
from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve 
them, is as unnatural, as to endeavour to get rid of the pain 
of hunger by keeping from the sight of food. That we can 
do one with greater success than we can the other, is no proof 
that one is less a violation of nature than the other. Com- 
passion is a call, a demand of nature, to relieve the unhappy; 
as hunger is a natural call for food. This affection plainly 
gives the objects of it an additional claim to relief and mercy, 
over and above what our fellow-creatures in common have to 
our good-will. Liberality and bounty are exceedingly com- 
mendable ; and a particular distinction in such a world as 
this, where men set themselves to contract their heart, and 
close it to all interests but their own. It is by no means to 
be opposed to mercy, but always accompanies it : the dis- 
tinction between them is only, that the former leads our 
thoughts to a more promiscuous and undistinguished distri- 
bution of favours ; to those who are not, as well as those who 
are necessitous ; whereas the object of compassion is misery. 
But in the comparison, and where there is not a possibility 



SERM. VI. 



Upon Compassion. 



11 



of both, mercy is to have the preference: the affection of 
compassion manifestly leads us to this preference. Thus, to 
relieve the indigent and distressed, to single out the unhappy, 
from whom can be expected no returns either of present en- 
tertainment or future service, for the objects of our favours; 
to esteem a man's being friendless as a recommendation ; de- 
jection, and incapacity of struggling through the world, as 
a motive for assisting him; in a word, to consider these cir- 
cumstances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a 
sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a person, as a 
motive for helping him forward : this is the course of bene- 
volence which compassion marks out and directs us to : this 
is that humanity, which is so peculiarly becoming our nature 
and circumstances in this world." 

To these considerations, drawn from the nature of man, 
must be added the reason of the thing itself we are recom- 
mending, which accords to and shews the same. For since 
it is so much more in our power to lessen the misery of our 
fellow-creatures, than to promote their positive happiness; in 
cases where there is an inconsistency, we shall be likely to 
do much more good by setting ourselves to mitigate the 
former, than by endeavouring to promote the latter. Let the 
competition be between the poor and the rich. It is easy, 
you will say, to see which wiil have the preference. True : 
but the question is, which ought to have the preference? 
What proportion is there between the happiness produced 
by doing a favour to the indigent, and that produced by 
doing the same favour to one in easy circumstances ? It is 
manifest, that the addition of a very large estate to one who 
before had an affluence, will in many instances yield him less 
new enjoyment or satisfaction, than an ordinary charity would 
yield to a necessitous person. So that it is not only true, 
that our nature, i. e. the voice of God within us, carries us to 
the exercise of charity and benevolence in the way of com- 
passion or mercy, preferably to any other way ; but we also 
manifestly discern much more good done by the former ; or, 
if you will allow me the expressions, more misery annihilated, 
and happiness created. If charity and benevolence, and en- 
deavouring to do good to our fellow-creatures, be any thing, 
this observation deserves to be most seriously considered by 
all who have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness, 
when applied to the several degrees of greater and less in- 
digency throughout the various ranks in human life : the 



72 



Upon Compassion. 



SERM. VI. 



happiness or good produced not being in proportion to what 
is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with the need 
there was of it. 

It may perhaps be expected, that upon this subject notice 
should be taken of occasions, circumstances, and characters, 
which seem at once to call forth affections of different sorts. 
Thus vice may be thought the object both of pity and indig- 
nation : folly, of pity and of laughter. How far this is 
strictly true, I shall not inquire ; but only observe upon the 
appearance, how much more humane it is to yield and give 
scope to affections, which are most directly in favour of, and 
friendly towards, our fellow-creatures ; and that there is 
plainly much less danger of being led wrong by these, than 
by the other. 

But, notwithstanding all that has been said in recommen- 
dation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most becoming 
human nature, and most useful to the world ; yet it must be 
owned, that every affection, as distinct from a principle of 
reason, may rise too high, and be beyond its just proportion. 
And by means of this one carried too far, a man throughout 
his life is subject to much more uneasiness than belongs to 
his share : and in particular instances, it may be in such a 
degree, as to incapacitate him from assisting the very person 
who is the object of it. But as there are some who upon 
principle set up for suppressing this affection itself as weak- 
ness, there is also I know not what of fashion on this side ; 
and, by some means or other, the whole world almost is run 
into the extremes of insensibility towards the distresses of 
their fellow-creatures : so that general rules and exhortations 
must always be on the other side. 

And now to go on to the uses we should make of the fore- 
going reflections, the further ones they lead to, and the ge- 
neral temper they have a tendency to beget in us. There 
being that distinct affection implanted in the nature of man, 
tending to lessen the miseries of life, that particular provi- 
sion made for abating its sorrows, more than for increasing 
its positive happiness, as before explained ; this may suggest 
to us what should be our general aim respecting ourselves, 
in our passage through this world : namely, to endeavour 
chiefly to escape misery, keep free from uneasiness, pain, 
and sorrow, or to get relief and mitigation of them ; to 
propose to ourselves peace and tranquillity of mind, rather 
than pursue after high enjoyments. This is what the con- 



serm. vi. Upon Compassion. 73 

stitution of nature before explained marks out as the course 
we should follow, and the end we should aim at. To make 
pleasure and mirth and jollity our business, and be con- 
stantly hurrying about after some gay amusement, some new 
gratification of sense or appetite, to those who will consider 
the nature of man and our condition in this world, will ap- 
pear the most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into 
thought. And yet how many are there who go on in this 
course, without learning better from the daily, the hourly 
disappointments, listlessness, and satiety, which accompany 
this fashionable method of wasting away their days ! 

The subject we have been insisting upon would lead us 
into the same kind of reflections, by a different connexion. 
The miseries of life brought home to ourselves by compas- 
sion, viewed through this affection considered as the sense 
by which they are perceived, would beget in us that mode- 
ration, humility, and soberness of mind, which has been now 
recommended ; and which peculiarly belongs to a season 
of recollection, the only purpose of which s to bring us to 
a just sense of things, to recover us out of that forgetfulness 
of ourselves, and our true state, which it is manifest far the 
greatest part of men pass their whole life in. Upon this 
account Solomon says, that it is better to go to the house of 
mourning, than to go to the house of feasting ; i. e. it is more 
to a man's advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of 
distress, to recall sometimes to his remembrance the occa- 
sions of sorrow, than to pass all his days in thoughtless mirth 
and gaiety. And he represents the wise as choosing to fre- 
quent the former of these places ; to be sure not for its own 
sake, but because by the sadness of the countenance the heart 
is made better. Every one observes how temperate and rea- 
sonable men are when humbled and brought low by afflic- 
tions, in comparison of what they are in high prosperity. 
By this voluntary resort to the house of mourning, which is 
here recommended, we might learn all those useful instruc- 
tions which calamities teach, without undergoing them our- 
selves; and grow wiser and better at a more easy rate than 
men commonly do. The objects themselves, which in that 
place of sorrow lie before our view, naturally give us a seri- 
ousness and attention, check that wantonness which is the 
growth of prosperity and ease, and lead us to reflect upon 
the deficiencies of human life itself; that every man, at his 
best estate, is altogether vanity. This would correct the 



74 



Upon Compassion. 



SERM. VI. 



florid and gaudy prospects and expectations which we are 
too apt to indulge, teach us to lower our notions of happi- 
ness and enjoyment, bring them down to the reality of things, 
to what is attainable, to what the frailty of our condition 
will admit of, which, for any continuance, is only tranquillity, 
ease, and moderate satisfactions. Thus we might at once 
become proof against the temptations with which the whole 
world almost is carried away ; since it is plain, that not only 
what is called a life of pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in 
general, aim at somewhat besides and beyond these mode- 
rate satisfactions. 

And as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders 
men so insensible to the motives of religion : this right sense 
of ourselves and of the world about us would bend the 
stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it more apt to 
receive impression : and this is the proper temper in which 
to call our ways to remembrance, to review and set home 
upon ourselves the miscarriages of our past life. In such a 
compliant state of mind, reason and conscience will have a 
fair hearing; which is the preparation for, or rather the be- 
ginning of, that repentance, the outward show of which we 
all put on at this season. 

Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us 
wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal state 
we are passing through, may put us in mind that the pre- 
sent world is not our home ; that we are merely strangers 
and travellers in it, as all our fathers were. It is therefore 
to be considered as a foreign country ; in which our poverty 
and wants, and the insufficient supplies of them, were de- 
signed to turn our views to that higher and better state we 
are heirs to : a state where will be no follies to be over^ 
looked, no miseries to be pitied, no wants to be relieved ; 
where the affection we have been now treating of will hap- 
pily be lost, as there will be no objects to exercise it upon : 
for God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there 
shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying : ?ieither 
shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are 
passed away. 



75 



SERMON VII. 

UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 

PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFt'eR EASTER. 

Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. 
Numb- xxiii. 10. 

These words, taken alone, and without respect to him who 
spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately to the different 
ends of good and bad men. For though the comparison is 
not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied ; as is also the 
preference of one of these characters to the other in that last 
circumstance, death. And, since dying the death of the 
righteous or of the wicked necessarily implies men's being 
righteous or' wicked, i. e. having lived righteously or wick- 
edly ; a comparison of them in their lives also might come 
into consideration, from such a single view of the words 
themselves. But my present design is to consider them 
with a particular reference or respect to him who spoke 
them ; which reference, if you please to attend, you will see. 
And if what shall be offered to your consideration at this 
time be thought a discourse upon the whole history of this 
man, rather than upon the particular words I have read, this 
is of no consequence ; it is sufficient, if it afford reflection of 
use and service to ourselves. 

But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkable 
relation in Scripture, either that part of it which you have 
heard in the first lesson for the day, or any others ; let me 
just observe, that as this is not a place for answering them, 
so they no way affect the following discourse ; since the cha- 
racter there given is plainly a real one in life, and such as 
there are parallels to. 

The occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own country 
into the land of Moab, where he pronounced this solemn 
prayer or wish, he himself relates in the first parable or pro- 
phetic speech, of which it is the conclusion. In which is a 
custom referred to, proper to be taken notice of : that of de- 
voting enemies to destruction, before the entrance upon a 
war with them. This custom appears to have prevailed over 
a great part of the world ; for we find it amongst the most 
distant nations. The Romans had public officers, to whom 



76 Upon the Character serm. vu. 

it belonged as a stated part of their office. But there was 
somewhat more particular in the case now before us ; Ba- 
laam being looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose 
blessing or curse was thought to be always effectual. 

In order to engage the reader's attention to this passage, 
the sacred historian has enumerated the preparatory circum- 
stances, which are these. Balaam requires the king of Moab 
to build him seven altars, and to prepare him the same num- 
ber of oxen and of rams. The sacrifice being over, he retires 
alone to a solitude sacred to these occasions, there to wait 
the divine inspiration or answer, for which the foregoing rites 
were the preparation. And God met Balaam, and pat a word 
hi his mouth ; # upon receiving which, he returns back to the 
altars, where was the king, who had all this while attended 
the sacrifice, as appointed ; he and all the princes of Moab 
standing, big with expectation of the prophet's reply. And 
he took up his parable, and said, Balak the king of Moab 
„ hath brought me from Ara??i, out of the mountains of the east, 
saying, Come, curse me Jacob, and come, defy Israel. How 
shall I curse, whom God hath not cursed? Or how shall I 
defy, whom the Lord hath not defied? For from the top of the 
rocks I see him, and from the hills I behold him : lo, the peo- 
ple shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckojied among the na- 
tions. Who can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of 
the fourth part of Israel? Let me die the death of the righ- 
teous, and let my last end be like his.f 

It is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this dis- 
course, particularly to observe what he understood by righ- 
teous. And he himself is introduced in the book of MicahJ 
explaining it ; if by righteous is meant good, as to be sure it 
is. O my people, remember now what Balak king of Moab 
consulted, and what Balaam the son of Beor answered him 
from Shitiim unto Gilgal. From the mention of Shittim it 
is manifest, that it is this very story which is here referred to, 
though another part of it, the account of which is not now 
extant; as there are many quotations in Scripture out of books 
which are not come down to us. Remember what Balaam 
answered, that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord; 
i. e. the righteousness which God will accept. Balak de- 
mands, Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow my- 
self before the high God? Shall I come before him with burnt- 
offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased 
* Ver. 4, 5. + Ver. 6. \ Micah vi. 



serm. vir, of Balaam, 11 

with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of oil? Shall I 
give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body 
for the sin of my soul? Balaam answers him, He hath shewed 
thee, O man, what is good: and what doth the Lord require of 
thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly 
with thy God? Here is a good man expressly characterized, 
as distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man. No 
words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of 
heart, than doing justice, and loving mercy : and both these, 
as well as walking humbly with God, are put in opposition 
to those ceremonial methods of recommendation, which Balak 
hoped might have served the turn. From hence appears 
what he meant by the righteous whose death he desires to die. 

Whether it was his own character shall now be inquired : 
and in order to determine it, we must take a view of his whole 
behaviour upon this occasion. When the elders of Moab 
came to him, though he appears to have been much allured 
with the rewards offered, yet he had such regard to the au- # 
thority of God, as to keep the messengers in suspense until 
he had consulted his will. And God said to him, Thou 
shalt not go with them, thou shalt not curse the people, for 
they are blessed* Upon this he dismisses the ambassadors, 
with an absolute refusal of accompanying them back to their 
king. Thus far his regards to duty prevailed, neither does 
there any thing appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His 
answer being reported to the king of Moab, a more honour- 
able embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards 
proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart began to disclose 
itself. A thorough honest man w T ould without hesitation 
have repeated his former answer, that he could not be guilty 
of so infamous a prostitution of the sacred character with 
which he was invested, as in the name of a prophet to curse 
those whom he knew to be blessed. But instead of this, 
which was the only honest part in these circumstances that 
lay before him, he desires the princes of Moab to tarry that 
night with him also ; and for the sake of the reward delibe- 
rates, whether by some means or other he might not be able 
to obtain leave to curse Israel ; to do that, which had been 
before revealed to him to be contrary to the will of God, which 
yet he resolves not to do without that permission. Upon 
which, as when this nation afterward rejected God from 
reigning over them, he gave them a king in his anger; in 

* Chap. xxii. 12. 



78 



Upon the Character serm. vii. 



the same way, as appears from other parts of the narration, 
he gives Balaam the permission he desired : for this is the 
most natural sense of the words. Arriving in the territories 
of Moab, and being received with particular distinction by 
the king, and he repeating in person the promise of the 
rewards he had before made to him by his ambassadors : he 
seeks, the text says, by sacrifices and enchantments (what these 
were is not to our purpose), to obtain leave of God to curse 
the people ; keeping still his resolution, not to do it without 
that permission : which not being able to obtain, he had such 
regard to the command of God, as to keep this resolution to 
the last. The supposition of his being under a supernatural 
restraint is a mere fiction of Philo : he is plainly represented 
to be under no other force or restraint, than the fear of God. 
However, he goes on persevering in that endeavour, after he 
had declared, that God had not beheld iniquity in Jacob, nei- 
ther had he seen perverseness in Israel ;* i. e. they were a 
% people of virtue and piety, so far as not to have drawn down, 
by their iniquity, that curse which he was soliciting leave to 
pronounce upon them. So that the state of Balaam's mind 
was this : he wanted to do what he knew to be very wicked, 
and contrary to the express command of God ; he had inward 
checks and restraints, which he could not entirely get over ; 
he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile this wickedness 
with his duty. How great a paradox soever this may appear, 
as it is indeed a contradiction in terms, it is the very account 
which the scripture gives us of him. 

But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet behind. 
Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet, to assist 
the king of Moab, he considers whether there might not be 
found some other means of assisting him against that very 
people, whom he himself by the fear of God was restrained 
from cursing in words. One would not think it possible, 
that the weakness, even of religious self-deceit in its utmost 
excess, could have so poor a distinction, so fond an evasion, 
to serve itself of. But so it was : and he could think of no 
other method, than to betray the children of Israel to provoke 
his wrath, who was their only strength and defence. The 
temptation which he pitched upon, was that concerning which 
Solomon afterward observed, that it had cast down many 
wounded; yea, many strong men had been slain by it : and of 
which he himself was a sad example, when his wives turned 

* Ver.21. 



SERM. VII. 



of Balaam. 



79 



away his heart after other gods. This succeeded : the peo- 
ple sin against God ; and thus the prophet's counsel brought 
on that destruction, which he could by no means be prevailed 
upon to assist with the religious ceremony of execration, 
which the king of Moab thought would itself have effected 
it. Their crime and punishment are related in Deutero- 
nomy,* and Numbers.f And from the relation repeated in 
Numbers, J it appears, that Balaam was the contriver of the 
whole matter. It is also ascribed to him in the Revelation, § 
where he is said to have taught Balak to cast a stumbling- 
block before the children of Israel. 

This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man who 
desired to die the death of the righteous, and that his last end 
might be like his: and this was the state of his mind, when 
he pronounced these words. 

So that the object we have now before us is the most as- 
tonishing in the world : a very wicked man, under a deep 
sense of God and religion, persisting still in his wickedness, „ 
and preferring the wages of unrighteousness, even when he 
had before him a lively view of death, and that approaching 
period of his days, which should deprive him of all those 
advantages for which he was prostituting himself; and like- 
wise a prospect, whether certain or uncertain, of a future state 
of retribution : all this joined with an explicit ardent wish, 
that, when he was to leave this world, he might be in the con- 
dition of a righteous man. Good God, what inconsistency, 
what perplexity is here ! With what different views of things, 
with what contradictory principles of action, must such a 
mind be torn and distracted! It was not unthinking careless- 
ness, by which he run on headlong in vice and folly, without 
ever making a stand to ask himself what he was doing : no ; 
he acted upon the cool motives of interest and advantage. 
Neither was he totally hard and callous to impressions of re- 
ligion, what we call abandoned ; for he absolutely denied to 
curse Israel. When reason assumes her place, when con- 
vinced of his duty, when he owns and feels, and is actually 
under the influence of the divine authority ; whilst he is car- 
rying on his views to the grave, the end of all temporal great- 
ness; under this sense of things, with the better character 
and more desirable state present — full before him — in his 
thoughts, in his wishes, voluntarily to choose the worse — 
what fatality is here ! Or how otherwise can such a character 
* Chap. iv. f Chap. xxv. { Chap. xxxi. § Chap. ii. 



80 Upon the Character serm. vii. 

be explained ? And yet strange as it may appear, it is not 
altogether an uncommon one: nay, with some small altera- 
tions, and put a little lower, it is applicable to a very consi- 
derable part of the world. For if the reasonable choice be 
seen and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable 
one, is not this the same contradiction; that very incon- 
sistency, which appeared so unaccountable? 

To give some little opening to such characters and beha- 
viour, it is to be observed in general, that there is no account 
to be given in the way of reason, of men's so strong attach- 
ments to the present world : our hopes and fears and pursuits 
are in degrees beyond all proportion to the known value of the 
things they respect. This may be said without taking into 
consideration religion and a future state ; and when these are 
considered, the disproportion is infinitely heightened. Now 
when men go against their reason, and contradict a more 
important interest at a distance, for one nearer, though of less 
consideration ; if this be the whole of the case, all that can 
be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute force 
within, prevails over the principle of rationality. However, 
if this be with a clear, full, and distinct view of the truth of 
things, then it is doing the utmost violence to themselves, 
acting in the most palpable contradiction to their very nature. 
But if there be any such thing in mankind as putting half- 
deceits upon themselves; which there plainly is, either by* 
avoiding reflection, or (if they do reflect) by religious equivo- 
cation, subterfuges, and palliating matters to themselves ; by 
these means conscience may be laid asleep, and they may go 
on in a course of wickedness with less disturbance. All the 
various turns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest heart, 
cannot be unfolded or laid open; but that there is somewhat 
of that kind is manifest, be it to be called self-deceit, or by 
any other name. Balaam had before his eyes the authority 
of God, absolutely forbidding him what he, for the sake of a 
reward, had the strongest inclination to : he was likewise in 
a state of mind sober enough to consider death and his last 
end : by these considerations he was restrained, first from 
going to the king of Moab; and after he did go, from cursing 
Israel. But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness 
in his heart. He could not forego the rewards of unrighte- 
ousness : he therefore first seeks for indulgences ; and when 
these could not be obtained, he sins against the whole mean- 
ing, end, and design of the prohibition, which no considera- 



SERM. VII. 



of Balaam. 



81 



tion in the world could prevail with him to go against the 
letter of. And surely that impious counsel he gave to Balak 
against the children of Israel, was, considered in itself, a 
greater piece of wickedness, than if he had cursed them in 
words. 

If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes and fears 
were, in respect to this his wish ; the answer must be, that 
consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must necessarily 
have destroyed all settled hopes of dying the death of the 
righteous : he could have no calm satisfaction in this view of 
his last end : yet, on the other hand, it is possible that those 
partial regards to his duty, now mentioned, might keep him 
from perfect despair. 

Upon the whole, it is manifest, that Balaam had the most 
just and true notions of God and religion; as appears, partly 
from the original story itself, and more plainly from the pas- 
sage in Micah ; where he explains religion to consist in real 
virtue and real piety, expressly distinguished from supersti- 
tion, and in terms which most strongly exclude dishonesty 
and falseness of heart. Yet you see his behaviour: he seeks 
indulgences for plain wickedness ; which not being able to 
obtain, he glosses over the same wickedness, dresses it up in a 
new form, in order to make it pass off more easily with him- 
self. That is, he deliberately contrives to deceive and impose 
upon himself, in a matter which he knew to be of the utmost 
importance. 

To bring these observations home to ourselves : it is too 
evident, that many persons allow themselves in very unjusti- 
fiable courses, who yet make great pretences to religion ; not 
to deceive the world, none can be so weak as to think this 
will pass in our age ; but from principles, hopes, and fears, 
respecting God and a future state ; and go on thus with a sort 
of tranquillity and quiet of mind. This cannot be upon a 
thorough consideration, and full resolution, that the pleasures 
and advantages they propose are to be pursued at all hazards, 
against reason, against the law of God, and though everlast- 
ing destruction is to be the consequence. This would be 
doing too great violence upon themselves. No, they are for 
making a composition with the Almighty. These of his com- 
mands they will obey : but as to others — why they will make 
all the atonements in their power ; the ambitious, the covet- 
ous, the dissolute man, each in a way which shall not con- 
tradict his respective pursuit. Indulgences before, which 

BUTLER. F 



82 



Upon the Character serm. vii. 



was Balaam's first attempt, though he was not so successful 
in it as to deceive himself, or atonements afterwards, are all 
the same. And here perhaps come in faint hopes that they 
may, and half-resolves that they will, one time or other, make 
a change. 

Besides these, there are also persons, who, from a more 
just way of considering things, see the infinite absurdity of 
this, of substituting sacrifice instead of obedience ; there are 
persons far enough from superstition, and not without some 
real sense of God and religion upon their minds ; who yet are 
guilty of most unjustifiable practices, and go on with great 
coolness and command over themselves. The same dis- 
honesty and unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these 
another way. In all common ordinary cases we see intui- 
tively at first view what is our duty, what is the honest part. 
This is the ground of the observation, that the first thought 
is often the best. In these cases doubt and deliberation is 
itself dishonesty ; as it was in Balaam upon the second mes- 
sage. That which is called considering what is our duty in 
a particular case, is very often nothing but endeavouring to 
explain it away. Thus those courses, which, if men would 
fairly attend to the dictates of their own consciences, they 
would see to be corruption, excess, oppression, uncharitable- 
ness ; these are refined upon— things were so and so circum- 
stantiated — great difficulties are raised about fixing bounds 
and degrees : and thus every moral obligation whatever may 
be evaded. Here is scope, I say, for an unfair mind to ex- 
plain away every moral obligation to itself. Whether men 
reflect again upon this internal management and artifice, and 
how explicit they are with themselves, is another question. 
There are many operations of the mind, many things pass 
within, which we never reflect upon again ; which a by- 
stander, from having frequent opportunities of observing us 
and our conduct, may make shrewd guesses at. 

That great numbers are in this way of deceiving them- 
selves is certain. There is scarce a man in the world, who 
has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears, concerning 
God and a future state ; and these apprehensions in the ge- 
nerality, bad as we are, prevail in considerable degrees : yet 
men will and can be wicked, with calmness and thought; 
we see they are. There must therefore be some method of 
making it sit a little easy upon their minds ; which, in the 
superstitious, is those indulgences and atonements before 



SERM. V. 



of Balaam. 



83 



mentioned, and this self-deceit of another kind in persons of 
another character. And both these proceed from a certain 
unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty ; the direct 
contrary to that simplicity which our Saviour recommends, 
under the notion of becoming little children, as a necessary 
qualification for our entering into the kingdom of heaven. 

But to conclude : How much soever men differ in the course 
of life they prefer, and in their ways of palliating and excus- 
ing their vices to themselves; yet all agree in the one thing, 
desiring to die the death of the righteous. This is surely re- 
markable. The observation may be extended further, and 
put thus : Even without determining what that is which we 
call guilt or innocence, there is no man but would choose, 
after having had the pleasure or advantage of a vicious ac- 
tion, to be free of the guilt of it, to be in the state of an inno- 
cent man. This shews at least the disturbance and implicit 
dissatisfaction in vice. If we inquire into the grounds of it, 
we shall find it proceeds partly from an immediate sense of 
having done evil, and partly from an apprehension, that this 
inward sense shall one time or another be seconded by a 
higher judgment, upon which our whole being depends. 
Now to suspend and drown this sense, and these apprehen- 
sions, be it by the hurry of business or of pleasure, or by su- 
perstition, or moral equivocations, this is in a manner one 
and the same, and makes no alteration at all in the nature of 
our case. Things and actions are what they are, and the con- 
sequences of them will be what they will be ; why then should 
we desire to be deceived? As we are reasonable creatures, 
and have any regard to ourselves, we ought to lay these 
things plainly and honestly before our mind, and upon this, 
act as you please, as you think most fit ; make that choice, 
and prefer that course of life, which you can justify to your- 
selves, and which sits more easy upon your own mind. It 
will immediately appear, that vice cannot be the happiness, 
but must upon the whole be the misery, of such a creature as 
man ; a moral, an accountable agent. Superstitious obser- 
vances, self-deceit, though of a more refined sort, will not in 
reality at all mend matters with us. And the result of the 
whole can be nothing else, but that with simplicity and fair- 
ness we keep innocency, and take heed unto the thing that is 
right; for this alone shall bring a man peace at the last. 



84 



SERMON VIII. 

UPON RESENTMENT. 

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate 
thine enemy: but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use 
you and persecute you. — Matth. v. 43, 44. 

Since perfect goodness in the Deity is the principle from 
whence the universe was brought into being, and by which 
it is preserved ; and since general benevolence is the great 
law of the whole moral creation ; it is a question which im- 
mediately occurs, Why had man implanted in him a principle, 
which appears the direct contrary to benevolence ? Now the 
foot upon which inquiries of this kind should be treated is 
this : to take human nature as it is, and the circumstances in 
which it is placed as they are; and then consider the corre- 
spondence between that nature and those circumstances, or 
what course of action and behaviour, respecting those cir- 
cumstances, any particular affection or passion leads us to. 
This I mention to distinguish the matter now before us from 
disquisitions of quite another kind ; namely, Why we are not 
made more perfect creatures, or placed in better circumstances? 
these being questions which we have not, that I know of, 
any thing at all to do with. God Almighty undoubtedly 
foresaw the disorders, both natural and moral, which would 
happen in this state of things. If upon this we set ourselves 
to search and examine why he did not prevent them ; we 
shall, I am afraid, be in danger of running into somewhat 
worse than impertinent curiosity. But upon this to examine 
how far the nature which he hath given us hath a respect to 
those circumstances, such as they are ; how far it leads us to 
act a proper part in them; plainly belongs to us : and such 
inquiries are in many ways of excellent use. Thus the thing 
to be considered is, not, Why we were not made of such a 
nature, and placed in such circumstances, as to have no need of 
so harsh and turbulent a passion as resentment : but, taking 
our nature and condition as being what they are, Why or for 
what end such a passion was given us : and this chiefly in 
order to shew what are the abuses of it. 

The persons who laid down for a rule, Thou shalt love thy 
neighbour, and hate thine enemy, made short work with this 



SERM. vur. 



Upon Resentment. 



85 



matter. They did not, it seems, perceive any thing to be 
disapproved in hatred, more than in good-will : and, accord- 
ing to their system of morals, our enemy was the proper 
natural object of one of these passions, as our neighbour was 
of the other of them. 

This was all they had to say, and all they thought needful 
to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot be satisfactory; 
because hatred, malice, and revenge, are directly contrary to 
the religion we profess, and to the nature and reason of the 
thing itself. Therefore, since no passion God hath endued 
us with can be in itself evil ; and yet since men frequently 
indulge a passion in such ways and degrees that at length it 
becomes quite another thing from what it was originally in 
our nature ; and those vices of malice and revenge in parti- 
cular take their occasion from the natural passion of resent- 
ment : it will be needful to trace this up to its original, that 
we may see, what it is in itself, as placed in our nature by its 
Author ; from which it will plainly appear, for what ends it 
was placed there. And when we know what the passion is 
in itself, and the ends of it, we shall easily see, what are the 
abuses of it, in which malice and revenge consist ; and which 
are so strongly forbidden in the text, by the direct contrary 
being commanded. 

Resentment is of two kinds : hasty and sudden, or settled 
and deliberate. The former is called anger, and often passion; 
which, though a general word, is frequently appropriated and 
confined to the particular feeling, sudden anger, as distinct 
from deliberate resentment, malice, and revenge. In all 
these words is usually implied somewhat vicious; somewhat 
unreasonable as to the occasion of the passion, or immode- 
rate as to the degree or duration of it. But that the natural 
passion itself is indifferent, St. Paul has asserted in that pre- 
cept, Be ye angry, and sin not:* which though it is by no 
means to be understood as an encouragement to indulge 
ourselves in anger, the sense being certainly this, Though ye 
be angry, sin not ; yet here is evidently a distinction made 
between anger and sin ; between the natural passion, and 

sinful anger. 

© ... 

Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere instinct : as 
merely so, as the disposition to close our eyes upon the 
apprehension of somewhat falling into them ; and no more 
necessarily implies any degree of reason. I say, necessarily : 

* Ephes. iv. 26. 



86 



Upon Resentment. 



SERM. VIII. 



for to be sure hasty, as well as deliberate, anger may be occa- 
sioned by injury or contempt ; in which cases reason sug- 
gests to our thoughts that injury and contempt which is the 
occasion of the passion : but 1 am speaking of the former 
only so far as it is to be distinguished from the latter. The 
only way in which our reason and understanding can raise - 
anger, is by representing to our mind injustice or injury of 
some kind or other. Now momentary anger is frequently 
raised, not only without any real, but without any apparent 
reason ; that is, without any appearance of injury, as distinct 
from hurt or pain. It cannot, I suppose, be thought, that 
this passion in infants ; in the lower species of animals ; 
and, which is often seen, in men towards them ; it cannot, I 
say, be imagined, that these instances of this passion are the 
effect of reason : no, they are occasioned by mere sensation 
and feeling. It is opposition, sudden hurt, violence, which 
naturally excites the passion ; and the real demerit or fault 
of him who offers that violence, or is the cause of that oppo- 
sition or hurt, does not, in many cases, so much as come into 
thought. 

The reason and end, for which man was made thus liable 
to this passion, is, that he might be better qualified to pre- 
vent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist and defeat, 
sudden force, violence, and opposition, considered merely as 
such, and without regard to the fault or demerit of him who 
is the author of them. Yet, since violence may be consi- 
dered in this other and further view, as implying fault ; and 
since injury, as distinct from harm, may raise sudden anger; 
sudden anger may likewise accidentally serve to prevent, or 
remedy, such fault and injury. But, considered as distinct 
from settled anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence, 
and not for the administration of justice. There are plainly 
cases, and in the uncultivated parts of the world, and, where 
regular governments are not formed, they frequently happen, 
in which there is no time for consideration, and yet to be 
passive is certain destruction ; in which sudden resistance is 
the only security. 

But from this, deliberate anger or resentment is essentially 
distinguished, as the latter is not naturally excited by, or 
intended to prevent mere harm without appearance of wrong 
or injustice. Now, in order to see, as exactly as we can 7 , 
what is the natural object and occasion of such resentment ; 
let us reflect upon the manner in which we are touched with 



SERM. VIII. 



Upon Resentment. 



87 



reading, suppose, a feigned story of baseness and villany, 
properly worked up to move our passions. This immediately 
raises indignation, somewhat of a desire that it should be 
punished. And though the designed injury be prevented, 
yet that it was designed is sufficient to raise this inward feel- 
ing. Suppose the story true, this inward feeling would be 
'as natural and as just: and one may venture to affirm, that 
there is scarce a man in the world, but would have it upon 
some occasions. It seems in us plainly connected with a 
sense of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil. Suppose 
further, we knew both the person who did and who suffered 
the injury : neither would this make any alteration, only that 
it would probably affect us more. The indignation raised 
by cruelty and injustice, and the desire of having it punished, 
which persons unconcerned would feel, is by no means malice. 
No, it is resentment against vice and wickedness : it is one 
of the common bonds, by which society is held together ; a 
fellow-feeling, which each individual has in behalf of the 
whole species, as well as of himself. And it does not appear 
that this, generally speaking, is at all too high amongst man- 
kind. Suppose now the injury I have been speaking of to 
be done against ourselves ; or those whom we consider as . 
ourselves. It is plain, the way in which we should be 
affected would be exactly the same in kind : but it would 
certainly be in a higher degree, and less transient ; because 
a sense of our own happiness and misery is most intimately 
and always present to us ; and from the very constitution of 
our nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility to, and 
be more deeply interested in, what concerns ourselves. And 
this seems to be the whole of this passion, which is, properly 
speaking, natural to mankind : namely, a resentment against 
injury and wickedness in general : and in a higher degree 
when towards ourselves, in proportion to the greater regard 
which men naturally have for themselves, than for others. 
From hence it appears, that it is not natural, but moral evil ; 
it is not suffering, but injury, which raises that anger or re- 
sentment, which is of any continuance. The natural object 
of it is not one, who appears to the suffering person to have 
been only the innocent occasion of his pain or loss ; but one, 
who has been in a moral sense injurious either to ourselves 
or others. This is abundantly confirmed by observing what 
it is which heightens or lessens resentment; namely, the same 
which aggravates or lessens the fault : friendship, and former 



8S 



Upon Resentment. 



SERM. VIII, 



obligations, on one hand ; or inadvertency, strong tempta- 
tions, and mistake, on the other. All this is so much under- 
stood by mankind, how little soever it be reflected upon, that 
a person would be reckoned quite distracted, who should 
coolly resent a harm, which had not to himself the appear- 
ance of injury or wrong. Men do indeed resent what is 
occasioned through carelessness : but then they expect ob- 
servance as their due, and so that carelessness is considered 
as faulty. It is likewise true, that they resent more strongly 
an injury done, than one which, though designed, was pre- 
vented, in cases where the guilt is perhaps the same : the 
reason however is, not that bare pain or loss raises resentment, 
but, that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, additional sense 
of the injury or injustice. According to the natural course of 
the passions, the degrees of resentment are in proportion, not 
only to the degree of design and deliberation in the injurious 
person ; but in proportion to this, joined with the degree of 
the evil designed or premeditated ; since this likewise comes 
in to make the injustice greater or less. And the evil or harm 
will appear greater when they feel it, than when they only 
reflect upon it : so therefore will the injury : and conse- 
quently the resentment will be greater. 

The natural object or occasion of settled resentment then 
being injury, as distinct from pain or loss ; it is easy to see, 
that to prevent and to remedy such injury, and the miseries 
arising from it, is the end for which this passion was implanted 
in man. It is to be considered as a weapon, put into our hands 
by nature, against injury, injustice, and cruelty : how it may 
be innocently employed and made use of, shall presently be 
mentioned. 

The account which has been now given of this passion is, 
in brief, that sudden anger is raised by, and was chiefly in- 
tended to prevent or remedy, mere harm distinct from injury : 
but that it may be raised by injury, and may serve to prevent 
or to remedy it ; and then the occasions and effects of it are 
the same with the occasions and effects of deliberate anger. 
But they are essentially distinguished in this, that the latter 
is never occasioned by harm, distinct from injury; and its 
natural proper end is to remedy or prevent only that harm, 
which implies, or is supposed to imply, injury or moral wrong. 
Every one sees that these observations do not relate to those, 
who have habitually suppressed the course of their passions 
and affections, out of regard either to interest or virtue ; or 



SERM. VIIT. 



Upon Resentment. 



89 



who, from habits of vice and folly, have changed their nature. 
But, I suppose, there can be no doubt but this, now described, 
is the general course of resentment, considered as a natural 
passion, neither increased by indulgence, nor corrected by 
virtue, nor prevailed over by other passions, or particular v 
habits of life. 

As to the abuses of anger, which it is to be observed may 
be in all different degrees, the first which occurs is what is 
commonly called passion ; to which some men are liable, in 
the same way as others are to the epilepsy , or any sudden par- 
ticular disorder. This distemper of the mind seizes them 
upon the least occasion in the world, and perpetually without 
any real reason at all : and by means of it they are plainly, 
every day, every walking hour of their lives, liable and in 
danger of running into the most extravagant outrages. Of a 
less boisterous, but not of a less innocent kind, is peevishness ; 
which I mention with pity, with real pity to the unhappy 
creatures, who, from their inferior station, or other circum- 
stances and relations, are obliged to be in the way of, and to 
serve for a supply to it. Both these, for ought that I can see, 
are one and the same principle : but, as it takes root in minds 
of different makes, it appears differently, and so is come to be 
distinguished by different names. That which in a more 
feeble temper is peevishness, and languidly discharges itself 
upon every thing which comes in its way ; the same principle, 
in a temper of greater force and stronger passions, becomes 
rage and fury. In one, the humour discharges itself at once ; 
in the other, it is continually discharging. This is the ac- 
count of passion and peevishness , as distinct from each other, 
and appearing in different persons. It is no objection against 
the truth of it, that they are both to be seen sometimes in one 
and the same person. 

With respect to deliberate resentment, the chief instances 
of abuse are : when, from partiality to ourselves, we imagine 
an injury done us, when there is none : when this partiality 
represents it to us greater than it really is : when we fall into 
that extravagant and monstrous kind of resentment, towards 
one who has innocently been the occasion of evil to us ; that 
is, resentment upon account of pain or inconvenience, with- 
out injury ; which is the same absurdity, as settled anger at 
a thing that is inanimate : when the indignation against 
injury and injustice rises too high, and is beyond proportion 
to the particular ill action it is exercised upon : or, lastly. 



90 



Upon Resentment. 



SERM. VIII. 



when pain or harm of any kind is inflicted merely in conse- 
quence of, and to gratify, that resentment, though naturally 
raised. 

It would be endless to descend into and explain all the 
peculiarities of perverseness and wayward humour which 
might be traced up to this passion. But there is one thing, 
which so generally belongs to and accompanies all excess and 
abuse of it, as to require being mentioned : a certain deter- 
mination, and resolute bent of mind, not to be convinced or 
set right ; though it be ever so plain, that there is no reason 
for the displeasure, that it was raised merely by error or mis- 
understanding. In this there is doubtless a great mixture of 
pride ; but there is somewhat more, which I cannot otherwise 
express, than that resentment has taken possession of the 
temper and of the mind, and will not quit its hold. It would 
be too minute to inquire whether this be any thing more than 
bare obstinacy : it is sufficient to observe, that it, in a very 
particular manner and degree, belongs to the abuses of this 
passion. 

But, notwithstanding all these abuses, " Is not just indig- 
nation against cruelty and wrong one of the instruments of 
death, which the Author of our nature hath provided ? Are 
not cruelty, injustice, and wrong, the natural objects of that 
indignation ? Surely then it may one way or other be inno- 
cently employed against them." True. Since therefore it is 
necessary for the very subsistence of the world, that injury, 
injustice, and cruelty, should be punished ; and since com- 
passion, which is so natural to mankind, would render that 
execution of justice exceedingly difficult and uneasy ; indig- 
nation against vice and wickedness is, and may be allowed to 
be, a balance to that weakness of pity, and also to any thing 
else which would prevent the necessary methods of severity* 
Those who have never thought upon these subjects, may 
perhaps not see the weight of this : but let us suppose a 
person guilty of murder, or any other action of cruelty, and 
that mankind had naturally no indignation against such 
wickedness and the authors of it ; but that every body was 
affected towards such a criminal in the same way as towards 
an innocent man : compassion, amongst other things, would 
render the execution of justice exceedingly painful and dif- 
ficult, and would often quite prevent it. And notwithstand- 
ing that the principle of benevolence is denied by some and 
is really in a very low degree, that men are in great measure - 



serm. vii i. Upon Resentment. 



91 



insensible to the happiness of their fellow-creatures ; yet they 
are not insensible to their misery, but are very strongly moved 
with it : insomuch that there plainly is occasion for that feel- 
ing, which is raised by guilt and demerit, as a balance to that 
of compassion. Thus much may I think justly be allowed 
to resentment, in the strictest way of moral consideration. 

The good influence which this passion has in fact upon the 
affairs of the world, is obvious to every one's notice. Men 
are plainly restrained from injuring their fellow-creatures by 
fear of their resentment ; and it is very happy that they are so, 
when they would not be restrained by a principle of virtue. 
And after an injury is done, and there is a necessity that the 
offender should be brought to justice ; the cool consideration 
of reason, that the security and peace of society requires ex- 
amples of justice should be made, might indeed be sufficient 
to procure laws to be enacted, and sentence passed : but is it 
that cool reflection in the injured person, which, for the most 
part, brings the offender to justice ? Or is it not resentment 
and indignation against the injury and the author of it? I 
am afraid there is no doubt, which is commonly the case. 
This however is to be considered as a good effect, notwith- 
standing it were much to be wished that men would act from 
a better principle, reason and cool reflection. 

The account now given of the passion of resentment, as 
distinct, from all the abuses of it, may suggest to our thoughts 
the following reflections. 

First, That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally be 
punished. Why should men dispute concerning the reality 
of virtue, and whether it be founded in the nature of things, 
which yet surely is not matter of question ; but why should 
this, I say, be disputed, when every man carries about him 
this passion, which affords him demonstration, that the rules 
of justice and equity are to be the guide of his actions ? For 
every man naturally feels an indignation upon seeing instances 
of villany and baseness, and therefore cannot commit the 
same without being self-condemned. 

Secondly, That we should learn to be cautious, lest we 
charge God foolishly, by ascribing that to him, or the nature 
he has given us, which is owing wholly to our own abuse of 
it. Men may speak of the degeneracy and corruption of the 
world, according to the experience they have had of it ; but 
human nature, considered as the divine workmanship, should 
methinks be treated as sacred : for in the image of God made 



92 



Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. serm. ix. 



he man. That passion, from whence men take occasion to 
run into the dreadful vices of malice and revenge ; even that 
passion, as implanted in our nature by God, is not only inno- 
cent, but a generous movement of mind. It is in itself, and 
in its original, no more than indignation against injury and 
wickedness : that which is the only deformity in the creation, 
and the only reasonable object of abhorrence and dislike. 
How manifold evidence have we of the divine wisdom and 
goodness, when even pain in the natural world, and the pas- 
sion we have been now considering in the moral, come out 
instances of it ! 

SERMON IX. 

UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate 
thine enemy: but I say uuto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use 
you and persecute you. — Matt. v. 43, 44. 

As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, 
both natural and moral, which would happen in this state of 
things ; he hath graciously made some provision against 
them, by giving us several passions and affections, which 
arise from, or whose objects are, those disorders. Of this sort 
are fear, resentment, compassion, and others ; of which there 
could be no occasion or use in a perfect state : but in the 
present we should be exposed to greater inconveniences with- 
out them ; though there are very considerable ones, which 
they themselves are the occasions of. They are encumbrances 
indeed, but such as we are obliged to carry about with us, 
through this various journey of life : some of them as a guard 
against the violent assaults of others, and in our own defence ; 
some in behalf of others ; and all of them to put us upon, and 
help to carry us through a course of behaviour suitable to 
our condition, in default of that perfection of wisdom and 
virtue, which would be in all respects our better security. 

The passion of anger or resentment hath already been 
largely treated of. It hath been shewn, that mankind na- 
turally feel some emotion of mind against injury and injustice, 
whoever are the sufferers by it; and even though the injurious 
design be prevented from taking effect. Let this be called 
anger, indignation, resentment, or by whatever name any one 



skrm. ix. Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. 93 

shall choose ; the thing itself is understood, and is plainly 
natural. It has likewise been observed, that this natural 
indignation is generally moderate and low enough in man- 
kind, in each particular man, when the injury which excites 
it doth not affect himself, or one whom he considers as him- 
self. Therefore the precepts to forgive, and to love our enemies, 
do not relate to that general indignation against injury and 
the authors of it, but to this feeling, or resentment when raised 
by private or personal injury. But no man could be thought 
in earnest, who should assert, that, though indignation against 
injury, when others are the sufferers, is innocent and just; 
yet the same indignation against it, when we ourselves are 
the sufferers, becomes faulty and blameable. These precepts 
therefore cannot be understood to forbid this in the latter 
case, more than in the former. Nay they cannot be under- 
stood to forbid this feeling in the latter case, though raised 
to a higher degree than in the former : because, as was also 
observed further, from the very constitution of our nature, we 
cannot but have a greater sensibility to what concerns our- 
selves. Therefore the precepts in the text, and others of the 
like import with them, must be understood to forbid only the 
excess and abuse of this natural feeling, in cases of personal 
and private injury: the chief instances of which excess and 
abuse have likewise been already remarked ; and all of them, 
excepting that of retaliation, do so plainly in the very terms 
express somewhat unreasonable, disproportionate, and absurd, 
as to admit of no pretence or shadow of justification. 

But since custom and false honour are on the side of reta- 
liation and revenge, when the resentment is natural and just; 
and reasons are sometimes offered in justification of revenge 
in these cases ; and since love of our enemies is thought too 
hard a saying to be obeyed : I will shew the absolute unlaw- 
\ fulness of the former ; the obligations we are under to the 
latter; and then proceed to some reflections, ivhich may have 
a more direct and immediate tendency to beget in us a right 
temper of mind towards those who have offended us. 

In shewing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is not my pre- 
sent design to examine what is alleged in favour of it, from 
the tyranny of custom and false honour, but only to consider 
the nature and reason of the thing itself; which ought to 
have prevented, and ought now to extirpate, every thing of 
that kind. 

First, Let us begin with the supposition of that being inno- 



94 Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. serm. ix. 

cent, which is pleaded for, and which shall be shewn to be 
altogether vicious, the supposition that w r e were allowed to 
vender evil for evil, and see what would be the consequence. 
Malice or resentment towards any man hath plainly a ten- 
dency to beget the same passion in him who is the object of 
it ; and this again increases it in the other. It is of the very 
nature of this vice to propagate itself, not only by way of 
example, which it does in common with other vices, but in a 
peculiar way of its own ; for resentment itself, as well as 
what is done in consequence of it, is the object of resentment : 
hence it comes to pass, that the first offence, even when so 
slight as presently to be dropped and forgotten, becomes the 
occasion of entering into a long intercourse of ill offices : 
neither is it at all uncommon to see persons, in this progress 
of strife and variance, change parts : and him, who was at 
first the injured person, become more injurious and blameable 
than the aggressor. Put the case then, that the law of reta- 
liation was universally received, and allowed, as an innocent 
rule of life, by all ; and the observance of it thought by many 
(and then it would soon come to be thought by all) a point 
of honour : this supposes every man in private cases to pass 
sentence in his own cause ; and likewise, that anger or resent- 
ment is to be the judge. Thus, from the numberless partia- 
lities which we all have for ourselves, every one would often 
think himself injured when he was not : and in most cases 
would represent an injury as much greater than it really is ; 
the imagined dignity of the person offended would scarce 
ever fail to magnify the offence. And, if bare retaliation, or 
returning just the mischief received, always begets resent- 
ment in the person upon whom we retaliate, what would that 
excess do ? Add to this, that he likewise has his partialities 
— there is no going on to represent this scene of rage and 
madness : it is manifest there would be no bounds, nor any 
end. If the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out 
water, what would it come to when allowed this free and 
unrestrained course? As coals are to burning coals, or wood 
to jire; so would these contentious men be to kindle strife. 
And, since the indulgence of revenge hath manifestly this 
tendency, and does actually produce these effects in propor- 
tion as it is allowed, a passion of so dangerous a nature ought 
not to be indulged, were there no other reason against it. 

Secondly, It hath been shewn that the passion of resent- 
ment was placed in man, upon supposition of, and as a pre- 



serm. ix. Upon Forgiveness of Inju vies . 9 5 

vention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder. Now whether 
it be allowed or not, that the passion itself and the gratifica- 
tion of it joined together are painful to the malicious person ; 
it must however be so with respect to the person towards 
whom it is exercised, and upon whom the revenge is taken. 
Now, if we consider mankind, according to that fine allusion 
of St. Paul, as one bod]/, and every one members one of another; 
it must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to society, 
a painful remedy. Thus then the very notion or idea of this 
passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil, and as in itself a 
painful means, plainly shews that it ought never to be made 
use of, but only in order to produce some greater good. 

It is to be observed, that this argument is not founded 
upon an allusion or simile ; but that it is drawn from the 
very nature of the passion itself, and the end for which it was 
given us. We are obliged to make use of words taken from 
sensible things, to explain what is the most remote from them : 
and everv one sees from whence the words Prevention and 
Remedy are taken. But, if you please, let these words be 
dropped : the thing itself, I suppose, may be expressed with- 
out them. 

That mankind is a community, that we all stand in a rela- 
tion to each other, that there is a public end and interest of 
society which each particular is obliged to promote, is the 
sum of morals. Consider then the passion of resentment, as 
given to this one body, as given to society. Nothing can 
be more manifest, than that resentment is to be considered 
as a secondary passion, placed in us upon supposition, upon 
account of, and with regard to, injury • not, to be sure, to 
promote and further it, but to render it, and the inconveni- 
ences and miseries arising from it, less and fewer than they 
would be without this passion. It is as manifest, that the in- 
dulgence of it is, with regard to society, a painful means of 
obtaining these ends. Considered in itself, it is very unde- 
sirable, and what society must very much wish to be without. 
It is in every instance absolutely an evil in itself, because it 
implies producing misery : and consequently must never be 
indulged or gratified for itself, by any one who considers 
mankind as a community or family, and himself as a member 
of it. 

Let us now take this in another view. Every natural ap- 
petite, passion, and affection, may be gratified in particular 
instances, without being subservient to the particular chief 



96 



Upo)i Forgiveness of Injuries. serm. ix. 



end, for which these several principles were respectively im- 
planted in our nature. And, if neither this end, nor any- 
other moral obligation, be contradicted, such gratification is 
innocent. Thus, I suppose, there are cases in which each of 
these principles, this one of resentment excepted, may inno- 
cently be gratified, without being subservient to what is the 
main end of it : that is, though it does not conduce to, yet it 
may be gratified without contradicting, that end, or any other 
obligation. But the gratification of resentment, if it be not 
conducive to the end for which it was given us, must neces- 
sarily contradict, not only the general obligation to benevo- 
lence, but likewise that particular end itself. The end, for 
which it was given, is to prevent or remedy injury ; i. e. the 
misery occasioned by injury ; i. e. misery itself: and the gra- 
tification of it consists in producing misery ; i. e. in contra- 
dicting the end for which it was implanted in our nature. 

This whole reasoning is built upon the difference there is 
between this passion and all others. No other principle, or 
passion, hath for its end the misery of our fellow-creatures. 
But malice and revenge meditates evil itself ; and to do mis- 
chief, to be the author of misery, is the very thing which 
gratifies the passion : this is what it directly tends towards, 
as its proper design. Other vices eventually do mischief : 
this alone aims at it as an end. 

Nothing can with reason be urged in justification of re- 
venge, from the good effects which the indulgence of it were 
before mentioned* to have upon the affairs of the world ; 
because, though it be a remarkable instance of the wisdom of 
Providence to bring good out of evil, yet vice is vice to him 
who is guilty of it. " But suppose these good effects are 
foreseen :" that is, suppose reason in a particular case leads 
a man the same way as passion ? Why then, to be sure, he 
should follow his reason, in this as well as in all other cases. 
So that, turn the matter which way ever you will, no more 
can be allowed to this passion, than what hath been already, f 

As to that love of our enemies, which is commanded; this 
supposes the general obligation to benevolence or good-will 
towards mankind: and this being supposed, that precept is 
no more than to forgive injuries ; that is, to keep clear of 
those abuses before mentioned : because that we have the 
habitual temper of benevolence is taken for granted. 

Resentment is not inconsistent with good-will ; for we 
* Serm. VIII. p. 91. t Ibid. p. 90. 



5ERM. IX. 



Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. 



97 



often see both together in very high degrees ; not only in 
parents towards their children, but in cases of friendship and 
dependence, where there is no natural relation. These con- 
trary passions, though they may lessen, do not necessarily 
destroy each other. We may therefore love our enemy, and 
yet have resentment against him for bis injurious behaviour 
towards us. But when this resentment entirely destroys our 
natural benevolence towards him, it is excessive, and becomes 
malice or revenge. The command to prevent its having this 
effect, i. e. to forgive injuries, is the same as to love our ene- 
mies; because that love is always supposed, unless destroyed 
by resentment. 

" But though mankind is the natural object of benevolence, 
yet may it not be lessened upon vice, He. injury?" Allowed: 
but if every degree of vice or injury must destroy that bene- 
volence, then no man is the object of our love ; for no man is 
without faults. 

" But if lower instances of injury may lessen our benevo- 
lence, why may not higher, or the highest, destroy it?" The 
answer is obvious. It is not man's being a social creature, 
much less his being a moral agent, from whence alone our 
obligations to good- will towards him arise. There is an obli- 
gation to it prior to either of these, arising from his being a 
sensible creature ; that is, capable of happiness or misery. 
Now this obligation cannot be superseded by his moral cha- 
racter. What justifies public executions is, not that the guilt, 
or demerit of the criminal dispenses with the obligation of 
good- will, neither would this justify any severity ; but, that 
his life is inconsistent with the quiet and happiness of 
the world: that is, a general and more enlarged obligation 
necessarily destroys a particular and more confined one 
of the same kind inconsistent with it. Guilt or injury then 
does not dispense with or supersede the duty of love and 
good-will. 

Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves, which was 
before allowed to be natural* to mankind, dispense with it : 
because that can no way innocently heighten our resentment 
against those who have been injurious to ourselves in parti- 
cular, any otherwise than as it heightens our sense of the in- 
jury or guilt ; and guilt, though in the highest degree, does 
not, as hath been shewn, dispense with or supersede the duty 
of love and good-will. 

* Serm. VIII. p. 87. 

BUTLER. G 



9 8 Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. s e rm . i x . 

If all this be true, what can a man say, who will dispute 
the^ reasonableness, or the possibility, of obeying the divine 
precept we are now considering ? Let him speak out, and it 
must be thus he will speak. " Mankind, i. e, a creature de- 
fective and faulty, is the proper object of good- will, whatever 
his faults are, when they respect others ; but not when they 
respect me myself." That men should be affected in this 
manner, and act accordingly, is to be accounted for like other 
vices ; but to assert that it ought, and must be thus, is self- 
partiality possessed of the very understanding. 

Thus love to our enemies, and those who have been inju- 
rious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it has been pro- 
fanely called, that it is in truth the law of our nature, and | 
what every one must see and own, who is not quite blinded 
with self-love. 

From hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in which 
we are commanded to love our enemies, or those who have 
been injurious to us. It were well if it could as easily be 
reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, that we are re- 
quired to love them with any peculiar kind of affection. But 
suppose the person injured to have a due natural sense of the 
injury, and no more ; he ought to be affected towards the in- 
jurious person in the same way any good men, uninterested 
in the case, would be; if they had the same just sense, which 
we have supposed the injured person to have, of the fault : 
after which there will yet remain real good-will towards the 
offender. 

Now what is there in all this, which should be thought 
impracticable ? I am sure there is nothing in it unreasonable. 
It is indeed no more than that we should not indulge a pas- 
sion, which, if generally indulged, would propagate itself so 
as almost to lay waste the world : that we should suppress 
that partial, that false self-love, which is the weakness of our 
nature: that uneasiness and misery should not be produced, 
without any good purpose to be served by it : and that we 
should not be affected towards persons differently from what 
their nature and character require. 

But since to be convinced that any temper of mind, and 
course of behaviour, is our duty, and the contrary vicious, 
hath but a distant influence upon our temper and actions; let 
me add some few reflections, which may have a more direct 
tendency to subdue those vices in the heart, to beget in us 
this right temper, and lead us to a right behaviour towards 



serivj. ix. Upon Forg iveness of Injuries . 99 

those who have offended us : which reflections however shall 
be such as will further shew the obligations we are under 
to it. 

No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity put 
upon him, or to be injuriously treated. If then there be any 
probability of a misunderstanding in the case, either from our 
i imagining we are injured when we are not, or representing 
the injury to ourselves as greater than it really is ; one would 
hope an intimation of this sort might be kindly received, and 
that people would be glad to find the injury not so great as 
they imagined. Therefore, without knowing particulars, I 
take upon me to assure all persons who think they have re- 
ceived indignities or injurious treatment, that they may de- 
pend upon it, as in a manner certain, that the offence is not 
so great as they themselves imagine. We are in such a pe- 
culiar situation, with respect to injuries done to ourselves, 
that we can scarce any more see them as they really are, than 
our eye can see itself. If we could place ourselves at a due 
distance, i. e. be really unprejudiced, we should frequently 
discern that to be in reality inadvertence and mistake in our 
enemy, which we now fancy we see to be malice or scorn. From 
this proper point of view, we should likewise in all probabi- 
lity see something of these latter in ourselves, and most cer- 
tainly a great deal of the former. Thus the indignity or in- 
jury would almost infinitely lessen, and perhaps at last come 
out to be nothing at all. Self-love is a medium of a peculiar 
kind; in these cases it magnifies every thing which is amiss 
in others, at the same time that it lessens every thing amiss in 
ourselves. 

Anger also or hatred may be considered as another false 
medium of viewing things, which always represents charac- 
ters and actions much worse than they really are. Ill-will 
not only never speaks, but never thinks well, of the person 
towards whom it is exercised. Thus in cases of offence and 
enmity, the whole character and behaviour is considered with 
an eye to that particular part which has offended us, and the 
whole man appears monstrous, without any thing right or 
human in him : whereas the resentment should surely at 
least be confined to that particular part of the behaviour 
which gave offence : since the other parts of a man's life and 
character stand just the same as they did before. 

In general, there are very few instances of enmity carried 
to any length, but inadvertency, misunderstanding, some real 

g 2 



100 Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. serm. ix, 

mistake of the case, on one side however, if not on both, has 
a great share in it. 

If these things were attended to, these ill-humours could 
not be carried to any length amongst good men, and they 
would be exceedingly abated amongst all. And one would 
hope they might be attended to : for all that these cautions I 
come to is really no more than desiring, that things may be | 
considered and judged of as they are in themselves, that we 
should have an eye to, and beware of, what would otherwise 
lead us into mistakes. So that to make allowances for. inad- 
vertence, misunderstanding, for the partialities of self-love, 
and the false light which anger sets things in; I say, to make I 
allowances for these, is not to be spoken of as an instance of 
humbleness of mind, or meekness and moderation of temper; 
but as what common sense should suggest, to avoid judging 
wrong of a matter before us, though virtue and morals were 
out of the case. And therefore it as much belongs to ill men, 
who will indulge the vice I have been arguing against, as to 
good men, who endeavour to subdue it in themselves. In a 
word, all these cautions, concerning anger and self-love, are 
no more than desiring a man, who was looking through a 
glass, which either magnified or lessened, to take notice, that 
the objects are not in themselves what they appear through 
that medium. 

To all these things one might add, that, resentment being 
out of the case, there is not, properly speaking, any such thing 
as direct ill-will in one man towards another: therefore the 
first indignity or injury, if it be not owing to inadver- 
tence or misunderstanding, may however be resolved into 
other particular passions or self-love : principles quite dis- 
tinct from ill-will, and which w r e ought all to be disposed 
to excuse in others, from experiencing so much of them in 
ourselves. A great man of antiquity is reported to have 
said, that, as he never was indulgent to any one fault in 
himself, he could not excuse those of others. This sen- 
tence could scarce with decency come out of the mouth 
of any human creature. But if we invert the former part, 
and put it thus : that he was indulgent to many faults in 
himself, as it is to be feared the best of us are, and yet was 
implacable; how monstrous would such an assertion appear ! 
And this is the case in respect to every human creature, in 
proportion as he is without the forgiving spirit I have been 
recommending. • 



s e r m . ix. Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. 101 

Further, though injury, injustice, oppression, the baseness 
of ingratitude, are the natural objects of indignation, or if you 
please of resentment, as before explained ; yet they are like- 
wise the objects of compassion, as they are their own punish- 
ment, and without repentance will for ever be so. No one 
ever did a designed injury to another, but at the same time 
he did a much greater to himself. If therefore we would 
consider things justly, such a one is, according to the na- 
tural course of our affections, an object of compassion, as 
well as of displeasure : and to be affected really in this man- 
ner, I say really, in opposition to show and pretence, argues 
the true greatness of mind. We have an example of forgive- 
ness in this way in its utmost perfection, and which indeed 
includes in it all that is good, in that prayer of our blessed 
Saviour on the cross : Father, forgive them ; for they know 
not what they do. 

But lastly, The offences which we are all guilty of against 
God, and the injuries which men do to each other, are often 
mentioned together : and, making allowances for the infinite 
distance between the Majesty of Heaven, and a frail mortal, 
and likewise for this, that he cannot possibly be affected or 
moved as we are ; offences committed by others against our- 
selves, and the manner in which we are apt to be affected 
with them, give a real occasion for calling to mind our own 
sins against God. Now there is an apprehension and pre- 
sentiment, natural to mankind, that we ourselves shall one 
time or other be dealt with as we deal with others ; and a 
peculiar acquiescence in, and feeling of, the equity and jus- 
tice of this equal distribution. This natural notion of equity 
the son of Sirach has put in the strongest way. He that 
revengeth shall find vengeance from the Lord, and he will 
surely keep his sins in remembrance. Forgive thy neighbour 
the hurt he hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins be forgiven 
when thou prayest. One man beareth hatred against another; 
and doth he seek pardon from the Lord? He sheweth no mercy 
to a man which is like himself ; and doth he ask forgiveness of 
his own sins?* Let anyone read our Saviour's parable of the 
king who took account of his servants ;f and the equity and 
Tightness of the sentence which was passed upon him who 
was unmerciful to his fellow-servant, will be felt. There is 
somewhat in human nature, which accords to and falls in 
with that method of determination. Let us then place before 
* Ecclus. xxviii. 1 — 4, f Matt, xviii. 



102 



Upon Self-Deceit. 



serm. x 



our eyes the time which is represented in the parable ; that 
of our own death, or the final judgment. Suppose yourselves 
under the apprehensions of approaching death ; that you 
were just going to appear naked and without disguise before 
the Judge of all the earth, to give an account of your beha- 
viour towards your fellow-creatures : could any thing raise 
more dreadful apprehensions of that judgment, than the re- 
flection that you had been implacable, and without mercy 
towards those who had offended you : without that forgiving 
spirit towards others, which that it may now be exercised to- 
wards yourselves, is your only hope? And these natural ap- 
prehensions are authorized by our Saviour's application of 
the parable : So likeivise shall my heavenly Father do also unto 
you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother 
their trespasses. On the other hand, suppose a good man in 
the same circumstance, in the last part and close of life ; 
conscious of many frailties, as the best are, but conscious too 
that he had been meek, forgiving, and merciful ; that he had 
in simplicity of heart been ready to pass over offences against 
himself: the having felt this good spirit will give him, not only 
a full view of the amiableness of it, but the surest hope that he 
shall meet with it in his Judge. This likewise is confirmed by 
his own declaration : If ye forgive men their trespasses, your 
heavenly Father will likewise for give you. And that we might 
have a constant sense of it upon our mind, the condition is 
expressed in our daily prayer. A forgiving spirit is there- 
fore absolutely necessary, as ever we hope for pardon of our 
own sins, as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying 
moments, or for the divine mercy at that day when we shall 
most stand in need of it. 

SERMON X. 

UPON SELF-DECEIT. 

And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. — 2 Sam., xii. 7. 

These words are the application of Nathan's parable to 
David, upon occasion of his adultery with Bathsheba, and 
the murder of Uriah her husband. The parable, which is 
related in the most beautiful simplicity, is this: *Therewere 
two men in one city ; the one rich and the other poor. The rich 

* Ver. 1. 



SE11M. X. 



Upon Self- Deceit. 



103 



man had exceeding many flocks and herds : but the poor man 
had nothings save one little ewe- lamb, which he had bought and 
nourished up: and it grew up together with him, and with his 
children ; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own 
cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. 
And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared 
to take of his own flock, and of his own herd, to dress for the 
way-faring man that was come unto him, but took the poor 
mans lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. 
And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man, and 
he said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done 
this thing shall surely die. And he shall restore the lamb 
four-fold, because he did this thing, and because he had no 
pity. David passes sentence, not only that there should be 
a fourfold restitution made ; but he proceeds to the rigour of 
justice, the man that hath done this thing shall die: and this 
judgment is pronounced with the utmost indignation against 
such an act of inhumanity ; As the Lord liveth, he shall surely 
die ; and his anger was greatly kindled against the man. And 
the prophet answered, Thou art the man. He had been 
guilty of much greater inhumanity, with the utmost delibe- 
ration, thought, and contrivance. Near a year must have 
passed, between the time of the commission of his crimes, 
and the time of the prophet's coming to him ; and it does 
not appear from the story, that he had in all this while the 
least remorse or contrition. 

There is not any thing, relating to men and characters, 
more surprising and unaccountable, than this partiality to 
themselves, which is observable in many ; as there is nothing 
of more melancholy reflection, respecting morality, virtue, 
and religion. Hence it is that many men seem perfect 
strangers to their own characters. They think, and reason, 
and judge quite differently upon any matter relating to them- 
selves, from what they do in cases of others where they are 
not interested. Hence it is one hears people exposing follies, 
which they themselves are eminent for ; and talking with 
great severity against particular vices, which if all the world 
be not mistaken, they themselves are notoriously guilty of. 
This self-ignorance and self-partiality may be in all different 
degrees. It is a lower degree of it which David himself 
refers to in these words, Who can tell how oft he offendeth ? 
O cleanse thou me from my secret faults. This is the ground 
of that advice of Elihu to Job: Surely it is meet to be said 



104 



Upon Self-Deceit. 



SERM. X. 



unto God, — That which I see not, teach thou me ; if I have 
done iniquity, I will do no more. And Solomon saw this 
thing in a very strong light, when he said, He that trusteth 
his own heart is a fool. This likewise was the reason why 
that precept, Know thyself, was so frequently inculcated by 
the philosophers of old. For if it were not for that partial 
and fond regard to ourselves, it would certainly be no great 
difficulty to know our own character, what passes within the 
bent and bias of our mind ; much less would there be any 
difficulty in judging rightly of our own actions. But from 
this partiality it frequently comes to pass, that the observa- 
tion of many men's being themselves last of all acquainted 
with what fails out in their own families, maybe applied to a 
nearer home, to what passes within their own breasts. 

There is plainly, in the generality of mankind, an absence 
of doubt or distrust, in a very great measure, as to their moral 
character and behaviour; and likewise a disposition to take 
for granted, that all is right and well with them in these re- 
spects. The former is owing to their not reflecting, not ex- 
ercising their judgment upon themselves; the latter, to self- 
love. I am not speaking of that extravagance, which is some- 
times to be met with ; instances of persons declaring in words 
at length, that they never were in the wrong, nor had ever 
any diffidence of the justness of their conduct, in their whole 
lives. No, these people are too far gone to have any thing 
said to them. The thing before us is indeed of this kind, but 
in a lower degree, and confined to the moral character ; some- 
what of which we almost all of us have, without reflecting 
upon it. Now consider, how long and how grossly, a per- 
son of the best understanding might be imposed upon by 
one of whom he had not any suspicion, and in whom he 
placed an entire confidence ; especially if there were friend- 
ship and real kindness in the case : surely this holds even 
stronger with respect to that self we are all so fond of. Hence 
arises in men a disregard of reproof and instruction, rules of 
conduct and moral discipline, which occasionally come in 
their way : a disregard, 1 say, of these; not in every respect, 
but in this single one, namely, as what may be of service to 
them in particular towards mending their own hearts and 
tempers, and making them better men. It never in earnest 
comes into their thoughts, whether such admonitions may 
not relate, and be of service to themselves ; and this quite 
distinct from a positive persuasion to the contrary, a persua- 



serm. x. Upon Self- Deceit. ]0o 

sion from reflection that they are innocent and blameless in 
those respects. Thus we may invert the observation which 
is somewhere made upon Brutus, that he never read, but in 
order to make himself a better man. It scarce comes into 
the thoughts of the generality of mankind, that this use is to 
be made of moral reflections which they meet with ; that this 
use, I say, is to be made of them by themselves, for every 
body observes and wonders that it is not done by others. 

Further, there are instances of persons having so fixed and 
steady an eye upon their own interest, whatever they place it 
in, and the interest of those whom they consider as themselves, 
as in a manner to regard nothing else ; their views are almost 
confined to this alone. Now we cannot be acquainted with, 
or in any propriety of speech be said to know any thing, but 
what we attend to. If therefore they attend only to one side, 
they really will not, cannot see or know what is to be alleged 
on the other. Though a man hath the best eyes in the world, 
he cannot see any way but that which he turns them. Thus 
these persons, wit 1 out passing over the least, the most minute 
thing, which can possibly be urged in favour of themselves, 
shall overlook entirely the plainest and most obvious things 
on the other side. And whilst they are under the power of 
this temper, thought and consideration upon the matter be- 
fore them has scarce any tendency to set them right : because 
they are engaged; and their deliberation concerning an ac- 
tion to be done, or reflection upon it afterwards, is not to see 
whether it be right, but to find out reasons to justify or pal- 
liate it; palliate it, not to others, but to themselves. 

In some there is to be observed a general ignorance of 
themselves, and wrong way of thinking and judging in every 
thing relating to themselves ; their fortune, reputation, every 
thing in which self can come in: and this perhaps attended 
with the rightest judgment in all other matters. In others 
this partiality is not so general, has not taken hold of the 
whole man, but is confined to some particular favourite pas- 
sion, interest, or pursuit; suppose ambition, covetousness, or 
any other. And these persons may probably judge and de- 
termine what is perfectly just and proper, even in things 
in which they themselves are concerned, if these things have 
no relation to their particular favourite passion or pursuit. 
Hence arises that amazing incongruity, and seeming incon- 
sistency of character, from whence slight observers take it for 
granted, that the whole is hypocritical and false; not being 



106 Upon Self- Deceit. serm. x. 

able otherwise to reconcile the several parts : whereas in truth 
there is real honesty, so far as it goes. There is such a thing 
as men's being honest to such a degree, and in such respects, 
but no further. And this, as it is true, so it is absolutely ne- 
cessary to betaken notice of, and allowed them; such general 
and undistinguishing censure of their whole character, as de- 
signing and false, being one main thing which confirms them 
in their self-deceit. They know that the whole censure is 
not true ; and so take for granted that no part of it is. 

But to go on with the explanation of the thing itself: Vice 
in general consists in having an unreasonable and too great 
regard to ourselves, in comparison of others. Robbery and 
murder is never from the love of injustice or cruelty, but to 
gratify some other passion, to gain some supposed advantage : 
and it is false selfishness alone, whether cool or passionate, 
which makes a man resolutely pursue that end, be it ever so 
much to the injury of another. But whereas, in common and 
ordinary wickedness, this unreasonableness, this partiality and 
selfishness, relates only, or chiefly, to the temper and pas- 
sions, in the characters we are now considering, it reaches 
to the understanding, and influences the very judgment.* 
And, besides that general want of distrust and diffidence con- 
cerning our own character, there are, you see, two things, 
which may thus prejudice and darken the understanding 
itself: that over-fondness for ourselves, which we are all so 
liable to; and also being under the power of any particular 
passion or appetite, or engaged in any particular pursuit. 

* That peculiar regard for ourselves which frequently produces this 
partiality of judgment in our own favour, may have a quite contrary effect, 
and occasion the utmost diffidence and distrust of ourselves; were it only, 
as it may set us upon a more frequent and strict survey and review of our 
own character and behaviour. This search or recollection itself implies 
somewhat of diffidence; and the discoveries we make, what is brought to 
our view, may possibly increase it. Good-will to another may either blind 
our judgment, so as to make us overlook his faults ; or it may put us upon 
exercising that judgment with greater strictness, to see whether he is so 
faultless and perfect as we wish him. If that peculiar regard to ourselves 
leads us to examine our own character with this greater severity, in order 
really to improve and grow better, it is the most commendable turn of 
mind possible, and can scarce be to excess. But if, as every thing hath 
its counterfeit, we are so much employed about ourselves in order to dis- 
guise what is amiss, and to make a better appearance; or if our attention 
to ourselves has chiefly this effect; it is liable to run up into the greatest 
weakness and excess, and is like all other excesses its own disappointment: 
for scarce any shew themselves to advantage, who are over solicitous of 
doing so. 



SERM. X. 



Upon Self- Deceit. 



107 



And these, especially the last of the two, may be in so great 
a degree, as to influence our judgment, even of other persons 
and their behaviour. Thus a man, whose temper is formed 
to ambition or covetousness, shall even approve of them some- 
times in others. 

This seems to be in a good measure the account of self- 
partiality and self-deceit, when traced up to its original. Whe- 
ther it be, or be not thought satisfactory, that there is such a 
thing is manifest ; and that it is the occasion of great part of 
the unreasonable behaviour of men towards each other : that 
by means of it they palliate their vices and follies to them- 
selves : and that it prevents their applying to themselves those 
reproofs and instructions, which they meet with either in 
scripture or in moral and religious discourses, though exactly 
suitable to the state of their own mind, and the course of their 
behaviour. There is one thing further to be added here, that 
the temper we distinguish by hardness of heart with respect 
to others, joined with this self-partiality, will carry a man 
almost any lengths of wickedness, in the way of oppression, 
hard usage of others, and even to plain injustice; without his 
having, from what appears, any real sense at all of it. This 
indeed was not the general character of David: for he plainly 
gave scope to the affections of compassion and good-will, as 
well as to his passions of another kind. 

But as some occasions and circumstances lie more open to 
this self-deceit, and give it greater scope and opportunities 
than others, these require to be particularly mentioned. 

It is to be observed then, that as there are express deter- 
minate acts of wickedness, such as murder, adultery, theft : 
so, on the other hand, there are numberless cases in which 
the vice and wickedness cannot be exactly defined ; but con- 
sists in a certain general temper and course of action, or in 
the neglectof some duty, suppose charity or any other, whose 
bounds and degrees are not fixed. This is the very province 
of self-deceit and self-partiality : here it governs without check 
or control. " For what commandment is there broken? Is 
there a transgression where there is no law ? a vice which 
cannot be defined ?" 

Whoever will consider the whole commerce of human life, 
will see that a great part, perhaps the greatest part, of the 
intercourse amongst mankind, cannot be reduced to fixed de- 
terminate rules. Yet in these cases there is a right and a 
wrong: a merciful, a liberal, a kind and compassionate be- 



108 



Upon Self- Deceit. serm. x. 



haviour, which surely is our duty; and an unmerciful con- 
tracted spirit, a hard and oppressive course of behaviour, 
which is most certainly immoral and vicious. But who can 
define precisely, wherein that contracted spirit and hard 
usage of others consist, as murder and theft may be denned? 
There is not a word in our language, which expresses more 
detestable wickedness than oppression; yet the nature of this 
vice cannot be so exactly stated, nor the bounds of it so deter- 
minately marked, as that we shall be able to say in all in- 
stances, where rigid right and justice ends, and oppression 
begins. In these cases there is great latitude left, for every 
one to determine for, and consequently to deceive himself. It 
is chiefly in these cases that self-deceit comes in ; as every one 
must see that there is much larger scope for it here, than in 
express, single, determinate acts of wickedness. However it 
comes in with respect to the circumstances attending the most 
gross and determinate acts of wickedness. Of this, the story 
of David, now before us, affords the most astonishing instance. 
It is really prodigious, to see a man, before so remarkable for 
virtue and piety, going on deliberately from adultery to mur- 
der, with the same cool contrivance, and, from what appears, 
with as little disturbance, as a man would endeavour to pre- 
vent the ill consequences of a mistake he had made in any 
common matter. That total insensibility of mind with respect 
to those horrid crimes, after the commission of them, mani- 
festly shews that he did some way or other delude him- 
self: and this could not be with respect to the crimes them- 
selves, they were so manifestly of the grossest kind. What 
the particular circumstances were, with which he extenuated 
them, and quieted and deceived himself, is not related. 

Having thus explained the nature of internal hypocrisy and 
self-deceit, and remarked the occasions upon which it exerts 
itself; there are several things further to be observed concern- 
ing it : that all of the sources, to which it was traced up, are 
sometimes observable together in one and the same person : 
but that one of them is more remarkable, and to a higher 
degree, in some, and others of them are so in others : that 
in general it is a complicated thing; and may be in all dif- 
ferent degrees and kinds : that the temper itself is essentially 
in its own nature vicious and immoral. It is unfairness : it 
is dishonesty ; it is falseness of heart : and is therefore so far 
from extenuating guilt, that it is itself the greatest of all 
guilt in proportion to the degree it prevails ; for it is a cor- 



serm. x. Upon Self- Deceit. 109 

ruption of the whole moral character in its principle. Our 
understanding, and sense of good and evil, is the light and 
guide of life: If therefore this light that is in thee be dark- 
ness, how great is that darkness /* For this reason our Saviour 
puts an evil eye as the direct opposite to a single eye ; the 
absence of that simplicity, which these last words imply, 
being itself evil and vicious. And whilst men are under the 
power of this temper, in proportion still to the degree they 
are so, they are fortified on every side against conviction : 
and when they hear the vice and folly of what is in truth 
their own course of life, exposed in the justest and strongest 
manner, they will often assent to it, and even carry the mat- 
ter further ; persuading themselves, one does not know how, 
but some way or other persuading themselves, that they are 
out of these, and that it hath no relation to them. Yet, not- 
withstanding this, there frequently appears a suspicion, that 
all is not right, or as it should be ; and perhaps there is al- 
ways at bottom somewhat of this sort. There are doubtless 
many instances of the ambitious, the revengeful, the covet- 
ous, and those whom with too great indulgence we only call 
the men of pleasure, who will not allow themselves to think 
how guilty they are, who explain and argue away their guilt 
to themselves : and though they do really impose upon them- 
selves in some measure, yet there are none of them but have, 
if not a proper knowledge, yet at least an implicit suspicion, 
where the weakness lies, and what part of their behaviour 
they have reason to wish unknown or forgotten for ever. 
Truth, and real good sense, and thorough integrity, carry 
along with them a peculiar consciousness of their own genu- 
ineness : there is a feeling belonging to them, which does 
not accompany their counterfeits, error, folly, half-honesty, 
partial and slight regards to virtue and right, so far only as 
they are consistent with that course of gratification which 
men happen to be set upon. And, if this be the case, it is 
much the same as if we should suppose a man to have had a 
general view of some scene, enough to satisfy him that it was 
very disagreeable, and then to shut his eyes, that he might 
not have a particular or distinct view of its several deformi- 
ties. It is as easy to close the eyes of the mind, as those of 
the body : and the former is more frequently done with wil- 
fulness, and yet not attended to, than the latter ; the actions 
of the mind being more quick and transient, than those of 

* Matt. vi. 23. 



110 



Upon Self -Deceit. 



SERil. X. 



the senses. This may be further illustrated by another thing 
observable in ordinary life. It is not uncommon for per- 
sons, who run out their fortunes, entirely to neglect looking 
into the state of their affairs, and this from a general know- 
ledge, that the condition of them is bad. These extravagant 
people are perpetually ruined before they themselves expected 
it : and they tell you for an excuse, and tell you truly, that 
they did not think they were so much in debt, or that their 
expenses so far exceeded their income. And yet no one will 
take this for an excuse, who is sensible that their ignorance 
of their particular circumstances was owing to their general 
knowledge of them ; that is, their general knowledge, that 
matters were not well with them, prevented their looking into 
particulars. There is somewhat of the like kind with this in 
respect to morals, virtue, and religion. Men find that the 
survey of themselves, their own heart and temper, their own 
life and behaviour, doth not afford them satisfaction : things 
are not as they should be : therefore they turn away, will not 
go over particulars, or look deeper, lest they should find more 
amiss. For who would choose to be put out of humour with 
himself? No one, surely, if it were not in order to mend, and 
to be more thoroughly and better pleased with himself for 
the future. 

If this sincere self-enjoyment and home-satisfaction be 
thought desirable, and worth some pains and diligence; the 
following reflections will, I suppose, deserve your attention ; 
as what may be of service and assistance to all who are in 
any measure honestly disposed, for avoiding that fatal self- 
deceit, and towards getting acquainted with themselves. 

The first is, that those who have never had any suspicion 
of, who have never made allowances for, this weakness in 
themselves, who have never (if I may be allowed such a man- 
ner of speaking) caught themselves in it, may almost take 
for granted that they have been very much misled by it. 
For consider : nothing is more manifest, than that affection 
and passion of all kinds influence the judgment. Now as 
we have naturally a greater regard to ourselves than to others, 
as the private affection is more prevalent than the public ; 
the former will have proportionally a greater influence upon 
the judgment, upon our way of considering things. People 
are not backward in owning this partiality of judgment, in 
cases of friendship and natural relation. The reason is ob- 
vious, why it is not so readily acknowledged, when the inte- , 



SERM. X. 



Upon Self- Deceit . 



Ill 



rest which misleads us is more confined, confined to ourselves: 
but we all take notice of it in each other in these cases. 
There is not any observation more common, than that there 
is no judging of a matter from hearing only one side. This 
is not founded upon supposition, at least it is not always, of 
a formed design in the relater to deceive : for it holds in 
cases, where he expects that the whole will be told over again 
by the other side. But the supposition, which this obser- 
vation is founded upon, is the very thing now before us • 
namely, that men are exceedingly prone to deceive them- 
selves, and judge too favourably in every respect, where them- 
selves and their own interest are concerned. Thus, though 
we have not the least reason to suspect that such an interested 
person hath any intention to deceive us, yet we of course 
make great allowances for his having deceived himself. If 
this be general, almost universal, it is prodigious that every 
man can think himself an exception, and that he is free 
from this self-partiality. The direct contrary is the truth. 
Every man may take for granted that he has a great deal of 
it, till, from the strictest observation upon himself, he finds 
particular reason to think otherwise. 

Secondly, There is one easy and almost sure way to avoid 
being misled by this self-partiality, and to get acquainted 
with our real character : to have regard to the suspicious 
part of it, and keep a steady eye over ourselves in that respect. 
Suppose then a man fully satisfied with himself, and his own 
behaviour ; such a one, if you please, as the Pharisee in the 
Gospel, or a better man. — Well; but allowing this good 
opinion you have of yourself to be true, yet every one is lia- 
ble to be misrepresented. Suppose then an enemy were to 
set about defaming you, what part of your character would 
he single out? What particular scandal, think you, would 
he be most likely to fix upon you ? And what would the world 
be most ready to believe? There is scarce a man living but 
could, from the most transient superficial view of himself, 
answer this question. What is that ill thing, that faulty 
behaviour, which I am apprehensive an enemy, who was 
thoroughly acquainted with me, would be most likely to lay 
to my charge, and which the world would be most apt to 
believe ? It is indeed possible that a man may not be guilty 
in that respect. All that I say is, let him in plainness and 
honesty fix upon that part of his character for a particular 
survey and reflection ; and by this he will come to be ac- 



112 



Upon Self- Deceit. 



seiim. x. 



quainted, whether he be guilty or innocent in that respect, 
and how far he is one or the other. 

Thirdly, It would very much prevent our being misled by 
this self-partiality, to reduce that practical rule of our Saviour, 
Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, even so do unto 
them, to our judgment and way of thinking. This rule, you see, 
consists of two parts. One is, to substitute another for your- 
self, when you take a survey of any part of your behaviour, or 
consider what is proper and fit and reasonable for you to do 
upon any occasion : the other part is, that you substitute 
yourself in the room of another ; consider yourself as the per- 
son affected by such a behaviour, or towards whom such an 
action is done : and then you would not only see, but like- 
wise feel, the reasonableness or unreasonableness of such an 
action or behaviour. But, alas ! the rule itself may be dis- 
honestly applied : there are persons who have not impar- 
tiality enough with respect to themselves, nor regard enough 
for others, to be able to make a just application of it. This 
just application, if men would honestly make it, is in effect 
all that I have been recommending ; it is the whole thing, 
the direct contrary to that inward dishonesty as respecting 
our intercourse with our fellow- creatures. And even the 
bearing this rule in their thoughts may be of some service ; 
the attempt thus to apply it, is an attempt towards being fair 
and impartial, and may chance unawares to shew them to 
themselves, to shew them the truth of the case they are con- 
sidering. 

Upon the whole it is manifest, that there is such a thing 
as this self-partiality and self-deceit : that in some persons 
it is to a degree which would be thought incredible, were not 
the instances before our eyes ; of which the behaviour of 
David is perhaps the highest possible one, in a single par- 
ticular case ; for there is not the least appearance, that it 
reached his general character: that we are almost all of us 
influenced by it in some degree, and in some respects : that 
therefore every one ought to have an eye to and beware of it. 
And all that I have further to add upon this subject is, that 
either there is a difference between right and wrong, or there 
is not : religion is true, or it is not. If it be not, there is no 
reason for any concern about it : but if it be true, it requires 
real fairness of mind and honesty of heart. And, if people 
will be wicked, they had better of the two be so from the 
common vicious passions without such refinements, than from 



serm. xi. Upon the Love of our Neighbour. 113 

this deep and calm source of delusion ; which undermines 
the whole principle of g-ood ; darkens that light, that candle 
of the Lord within, which is to direct our steps ; and corrupts 
conscience, which is the guide of life. 

SERMON XL 

UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 

PREACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY. 

And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this say- 
ing, namely, Thou shaltlove thy neighbour as thyself. — Rom. xiii. 9. 

It is commonly observed, that there is a disposition in men 
to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the age in 
which they live, as greater than that of former ones ; which 
is usually followed with this further observation, that man- 
kind has been in that respect much the same in all times. 
Now, not to determine whether this last be not contradicted 
by the accounts of history; thus much can scarce be doubted, 
that vice and folly takes different turns, and some particular 
kinds of it are more open and avowed in some ages than in 
others : and, I suppose, it may be spoken of as very much 
the distinction of the present to profess a contracted spirit, 
and greater regards to self-interest, than appears to have 
been done formerly. Upon this account it seems worth while 
to inquire, whether private interest is likely to be promoted 
in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses 
us, and prevails over all other principles ; or whether the 
contracted affection may not possibly be so prevalent as to 
disappoint itself and even contradict its own end, private 
good. 

And since, further, there is generally thought to be some 
peculiar kind of contrariety between self-love and the love of 
our neighbour, between the pursuit of public and of private 
good; insomuch that when you are recommending one of these, 
you are supposed to be speaking against the other ; and from 
hence arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently open 
scorn of all talk of public spirit, and real good-will to our 
fellow-creatures ; it will be necessary to inquire what respect 
benevolence hath to self-love, and the pursuit of private interest 
to the pursuit of public : or whether there be any thing of 
that peculiar inconsistence and contrariety between them, 

BUTLER. H 



114 Upon the Love of serm, xr. 

over and above what there is between self-love and other 
passions and particular affections, and their respective 
pursuits. 

These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favourably attended 
to : for there shall be all possible concessions made to the 
favourite passion, which hath so much allowed to it, and 
whose cause is so universally pleaded : it shall be treated 
with the utmost tenderness and concern for its interests. 

In order to this, as well as to determine the forementioned 
questions, it will be necessary to consider the nature, the 
object, and end of that self-love, as distinguished from other 
principles or affections in the mind, and their respective 
objects. 

Every man hath a general desire of his own happiness ; 
and likewise a variety of particular affections, passions, and 
appetites to particular external objects. The former proceeds 
from, or is self-love ; and seems inseparable from all sensible 
creatures, who can reflect upon themselves and their own 
interest or happiness, so as to have that interest an object to 
their minds : what is to be said of the latter is, that they pro- 
ceed from, or together make up that particular nature, accord- 
ing to which man is made. The object the former pursues 
is somewhat internal, our own happiness, enjoyment, satis- 
faction ; whether we have, or have not, a distinct particular 
perception what it is, or wherein it consists : the objects of 
the latter are this or that particular external thing, which the 
affections tend towards, and of which it hath always a par- 
ticular idea or perception. The principle we call self-love 
never seeks any thing external for the sake of the thing, but 
only as a means of happiness or good : particular affections 
rest in the external things themselves. One belongs to man 
as a reasonable creature reflecting upon his own interest or 
happiness. The other, though quite distinct from reason, are 
as much a part of human nature. 

That all particular appetites and passions are towards ex- 
ternal things themselves, distinct from the pleasure arising 
from them, is manifested from hence ; that there could not 
be this pleasure, were it not for that prior suitableness be- 
tween the object and the passion : there could be no enjoy- 
ment or delight from one thing more than another, from 
eating food more than from swallowing a stone, if there 
were not an affection or appetite to one thing more than 
another. 



SERM. xr. 



our Neighbour. 



115 



Every particular affection, even the love of our neighbour, 
is as really our own affection, as self-love ; and the pleasure 
arising from its gratification is as much my own pleasure, as 
the pleasure self-love would have, from knowing I myself 
should be happy some time hence, would be my own plea- 
sure. And if, because every particular affection is a man's 
own, and the pleasure arising from its gratification his own 
pleasure, or pleasure to himself, such particular affection must 
be called self-love ; according to this way of speaking, no 
creature whatever can possibly act but merely from self-love; 
and every action and every affection whatever is to be resolved 
up into this one principle. But then this is not the language 
of mankind : or if it were, we should want words to express 
the difference, between the principle of an action, proceeding 
from cool consideration that it will be to my own advantage; 
and an action, suppose of revenge, or of friendship, by which 
a man runs upon certain ruin, to do evil or good to another. 
It is manifest the principles of these actions are totally diffe- 
rent, and so want different words to be distinguished by: all 
that they agree in is, that they both proceed from, and are 
done to gratify an inclination in a man's self. But the prin- 
ciple or inclination in one case is self-love ; in the other, 
hatred or love of another. There is then a distinction between 
the cool principle of self-love, or general desire of our own 
happiness, as one part of our nature, and one principle of 
action ; and the particular affections towards particular ex- 
ternal objects, as another part of our nature, and another prin- 
ciple of action. How much soever therefore is to be allowed 
to self-love, yet it cannot be allowed to be the whole of our 
inward constitution ; because, you see, there are other parts 
or principles which come into it. 

Further, private happiness or good is all which self-love 
can make us desire, or be concerned about : in having this 
consists its gratification : it is an affection to ourselves ; a 
regard to our own interest, happiness, and private good : and 
in the proportion a man hath this, he is interested, or a lover 
of himself. Let this be kept in mind ; because there is com- 
monly, as I shall presently have occasion to observe, another 
sense put upon these words. On the other hand, particular 
affections tend towards particular external things : these are 
their objects: having these is their end : in this consists their 
gratification : no matter whether it be, or be not, upon the 
whole, our interest or happiness. An action done from the 

h 2 



116 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XI. 



former of these principles is called an interested action. An 
action proceeding from any of the latter has its denomination 
of passionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, 
from the particular appetite or affection from which it pro- 
ceeds. Thus self-love as one part of human nature, and the 
several particular principles as the other part, are, themselves, 
their objects and ends, stated and shewn. 

From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in what 
ways, each of these can contribute and be subservient to the 
private good of the individual. Happiness does not consist 
in self-love. The desire of happiness is no more the thing 
itself, than the desire of riches is the possession or enjoyment 
of them. People may love themselves with the most entire 
and unbounded affection, and yet be extremely miserable. 
Neither can self-love any way help them out, but by setting 
them on work to get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain 
or make use of those objects which are by nature adapted to 
afford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfaction consists only 
in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature suited 
to our several particular appetites, passions, and affections. 
So that if self-love wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room 
for any other principle, there can be absolutely no such thing 
at all as happiness, or enjoyment of any kind whatever ; since 
happiness consists in the gratification of particular passions, 
which supposes the having of them. Self-love then does 
not constitute this or that to be our interest or good ; but, 
our interest or good being constituted by nature and sup- 
posed, self-love only puts us upon obtaining and securing it. 
Therefore, if it be possible, that self-love may prevail and 
exert itself in a degree or manner which is not subservient 
to this end ; then it will not follow, that our interest will be 
promoted in proportion to the degree in which that principle 
engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay further, the pri- 
vate and contracted affection, when it is not subservient to 
this end, private good, may, for anything that appears, have 
a direct contrary tendency and effect. And if we will con- 
sider the matter, we shall see that it often really has. Dis- 
engagement is absolutely necessary to enjoyment : and a 
person may have so steady and fixed an eye upon his own 
interest, whatever he places it in, as may hinder him from 
attending to many gratifications within his reach, which others 
have their minds free and open to. Over-fondness for a 
child is not generally thought to be for its advantage : and, 



SERM. XI. 



our Neighbour. 



117 



if there be any guess to be made from appearances, surely 
that character we call selfish is not the most promising for 
happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, and exert itself 
in a degree and manner which may give unnecessary and 
useless solicitude and anxiety, in a degree and manner which 
may prevent obtaining the means and materials of enjoy- 
ment, as well as the making use of them. Immoderate self- 
love does very ill consult its own interest : and, how much 
soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly true, that even 
from self-love we should endeavour to get over all inordinate 
regard to, and consideration of ourselves. Every one of our 
passions and affections hath its natural stint and bound, 
which may easily be exceeded ; whereas our enjoyments can 
possibly be but in a determinate measure and degree. There- 
fore such excess of the affection, since it cannot procure any 
enjoyment, must in all cases be useless ; but is generally 
attended with inconveniences, and often is downright pain 
and misery. This holds as much with regard to self-love as 
to all other affections. The natural degree of it, so far as it 
sets us on work to gain and make use of the materials of 
satisfaction, may be to our real advantage ; but beyond or 
besides this, it is in several respects an inconvenience and 
disadvantage. Thus it appears, that private interest is so 
far from being likely to be promoted in proportion to the 
degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all 
other principles ; that the contracted affection may be so pre- 
valent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict its own end, 
private good. 

" But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever thought 
there was any rivalship between the love of greatness, 
honour, power, or between sensual appetites, and self-love ? 
No, there is a perfect harmony between them. It is by 
means of these particular appetites and affections that self- 
love is gratified in enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction. 
The competition and rivalship is between self-love and the 
love of our neighbour : that affection which leads us out of 
ourselves, makes us regardless of our own interest, and sub- 
stitute that of another in its stead." Whether then there be 
any peculiar competition and contrariety in this case, shall 
j now be considered. 

Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in or be 
an affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private good : 
it is therefore distinct from benevolence, which is an affec- 



118 Upon the Love of serm. xi. 

tion to the good of our fellow-creatures. But that bene- 
volence is distinct from, that is, not the same thing with 
self-love, is no reason for it being looked upon with any 
peculiar suspicion ; because every principle whatever, by 
means of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it : and 
all things which are distinct from each other are equally so. 
A man has an affection or aversion to another : that one 
of these tends to, and is gratified by doing good, that the 
other tends to, and is gratified by doing harm, does not in 
the least alter the respect which either one or the other of 
these inward feelings has to self-love. We use the word 'pro- 
perty so as to exclude any other persons having an interest 
in that of which we say a particular man has the property. 
And we often use the word selfish so as to exclude in the 
same manner all regards to the good of others. But the 
cases are not parallel : for though that exclusion is really 
part of the idea of property ; yet such positive exclusion, or 
bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of others into 
the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or 
changing it from what it was before stated to consist in, 
namely, in an affection to ourselves. # This being the whole 
idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude good-will or 
love of others, than merely by not including it, no other- 
wise, than it excludes love of arts or of reputation, or of any 
thing else. Neither on the other hand does benevolence, 
any more than love of arts or of reputation, exclude self- 
love. Love of our neighbour then has just the same respect 
to, is no more distant from self-love, than hatred of our 
neighbour, or than love or hatred of any thing else. Thus 
the principles, from which men rush upon certain ruin for 
the destruction of an enemy, and for the preservation of a 
friend, have the same respect to the private affection, and are 
equally interested, or equally disinterested : and it is of no 
avail, whether they are said to be one or the other. There- 
fore to those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as dis- 
interested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd to 
speak thus of it ; unless hatred, several particular instances 
of vice, and all the common affections and aversions in man- 
kind, are acknowledged to be disinterested too. Is there 
any less inconsistence, between the love of inanimate things, 
or of creatures merely sensitive, and self-love ; than between 
self-love and the love of our neighbour? Is desire of and 

* Y. 115. 



SERM. XI. 



our Neighbour. 



119 



delight in the happiness of another any more a diminution 
of self-love, than desire of and delight in the esteem of an- 
other ? They are both equally desire of and delight in some- 
what external to ourselves : either both or neither are so. 
The object of self-love is expressed in the term self: and 
every appetite of sense, and every particular affection of the 
heart, are equally interested or disinterested, because the 
objects of them all are equally self or somewhat else. What- 
ever ridicule therefore the mention of a disinterested principle 
or action may be supposed to lie open to, must, upon the 
matter being thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appe- 
tite and particular affection, as much as to benevolence. And 
indeed all the ridicule, and all the grave perplexity, of which 
this subject hath had its full share, is merely from words. 
The most intelligible way of speaking of it seems to be this : 
that self-love and the actions done in consequence of it (for 
these will presently appear to be the same as to this question) 
are interested ; that particular affections towards external 
objects, and the actions done in consequence of those affec- 
tions, are not so. But every one is at liberty to use words as 
he pleases. All that is here insisted upon is, that ambition, 
revenge, benevolence, all particular passions whatever, and 
the actions they produce, are equally interested or disin- 
terested. 

Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety between 
self-love and benevolence ; no greater competition between 
these, than between any other particular affections and self- 
love. This relates to the affections themselves. Let us now see 
whether there be any peculiar contrariety between the respec- 
tive courses of life which these affections lead to ; whether 
there be any greater competition between the pursuit of pri- 
vate and of public good, than between any other particular 
pursuits and that of private good. 

There seems no other reason to suspect that there is any 
such peculiar contrariety, but only that the courses of action 
which benevolence leads to, has a more direct tendency to 
promote the good of others, than that course of action which 
love of reputation suppose, or any other particular affection 
leads to. But that any affection tends to the happiness of 
another, does not hinder its tending to one's own happiness 
too. That others enjoy the benefit of the air and the light of 
the sun, does not hinder but that these are as much one's own 
private advantage now, as they would be if we had the pro- 



120 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XI. 



perty of them exclusive of all others. So a pursuit which 
tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as great 
tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit which does 
not tend to the good of another at all, or which is mischievous 
to him. All particular affections whatever, resentment, be- 
nevolence, love of arts, equally lead to a course of action for 
their own gratification, i. e. the gratification of ourselves ; 
and the gratification of each gives delight : so far then it is 
manifest they have all the same respect to private interest. 
Now take into consideration further, concerning these three 
pursuits, that the end of the first is the harm, of the second, 
the good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent ; and 
is there any necessity, that these additional considerations 
should alter the respect, which we before saw these three pur- 
suits, had to private interest; or render any one of them less 
conducive to it, than any other ? Thus one man's affection is 
to honour as his end ; in order to obtain which he thinks no 
pains too great. Suppose another, with such a singularity 
of mind, as to have the same affection to public good as his 
end, which he endeavours with the same labour to obtain. In 
case of success, surely the man of benevolence hath as great 
enjoyment as the man of ambition ; they both equally having 
the end of th eir affections, in the same degree, tended to : but 
in case of disappointment, the benevolent man has clearly the 
advantage ; since endeavouring to do good considered as a 
virtuous pursuit, is gratified by its own consciousness, i. e. is 
in a degree its own reward. 

And as to these two, or benevolence and any other parti- 
cular passions whatever, considered in a further view, as 
forming a general temper, which more or less disposes us for 
enjoyment of all the common blessings of life, distinct from 
their own gratification : is benevolence less the temper of 
tranquillity and freedom than ambition or covetousness ? 
Does the benevolent man appear less easy with himself, from 
his love to his neighbour? Does he less relish his being? 
Is there any peculiar gloom seated on his face ? Is his mind 
less open to entertainment, to any particular gratification ? 
Nothing is more manifest, than that being in good humour, 
which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of 
satisfaction and enjoyment. 

Suppose then a man sitting down to consider how he might 
become most easy to himself, and attain the greatest plea- 
sure he could ; all that which is his real natural happiness. 



serm. xi. our Neighbour. 121 

This can only consist in the enjoyment of those objects, 
which are by nature adapted to our several faculties. These 
particular enjoyments make up the sum total of our happi- 
ness : and they are supposed to arise from riches, honours, 
and the gratification of sensual appetites : be it so : yet none 
profess themselves so completely happy in these enjoyments, 
but that there is room left in the mind of others, if they were 
presented to them : nay, these, as much as they engage us, 
are not thought so high, but that human nature is capable 
even of greater. Now there have been persons in all ages, 
who have professed that they found satisfaction in the exer- 
cise of charity, in the love of their neighbour, in endeavour- 
ing to promote the happiness of all they had to do with, and 
in the pursuit of what is just, and right, and good, as the 
general bent of their mind, and end of their life ; and that 
doing an action of baseness or cruelty, would be as great 
violence to their self, as much breaking in upon their nature, 
as any external force. Persons of this character would add, 
if they might be heard, that they consider themselves as act- 
ing in the view of an infinite Being, who is in a much higher 
sense the object of reverence and of love, than all the world 
besides ; and therefore they could have no more enjoyment 
from a wicked action done under his eye, than the persons 
to whom they are making their apology could, if all mankind 
were the spectators of it ; and that the satisfaction of ap- 
proving themselves to his unerring judgment, to whom they 
thus refer all their actions, is a more continued settled satis- 
faction than any this world can afford ; as also that they 
have, no less than others, a mind free and open to all the 
common innocent gratifications of it, such as they are. And 
if we go no further, does there appear any absurdity in this ? 
Will any one take upon him to say, that a man cannot find 
his account in this general course of life, as much as in the 
most unbounded ambition, and the excesses of pleasure? Or 
that such a person has not consulted so well for himself, for 
the satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious 
or dissolute man ? And though the consideration, that God 
himself will in the end justify their taste, and support their 
cause, is not formally to be insisted upon here ; yet thus 
much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever are much more 
clear and unmixed from the assurance that they will end 
well. Is it certain then that there is nothing in these pre- 
tensions to happiness ? especially when there are not want 



122 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XL 



ing persons, who have supported themselves with satisfac- 
tions of this kind in sickness, poverty, disgrace, and in the 
very pangs of death ; whereas it is manifest all other enjoy- 
ments fail in these circumstances. This surely looks sus- 
picious of having somewhat in it. Self-love methinks should 
be alarmed. May she not possibly pass over greater pleasures, 
than those she is so wholly taken up with ? 

The short of the matter is no more than this. Happiness 
consists in the gratification of certain affections, appetites, 
passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to them. 
Self-love may indeed set us on work to gratify these ; but 
happiness or enjoyment has no immediate connexion with 
self-love, but arises from such gratification alone. Love of 
our neighbour is one of those affections. This, considered 
as a virtuous 'principle, is gratified by a consciousness of en- 
deavouring to promote the good of others; but considered as 
natural affection, its gratification consists in the actual accom- 
plishment of this endeavour. Now indulgence or gratifica- 
tion of this affection, whether in that consciousness, or this 
accomplishment, has the same respect to interest, as indul- 
gence of any other affection; they equally proceed from or 
do not proceed from self-love, they equally include or equally 
exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that benevolence and 
the pursuits of public good hath at least as great respect to 
self-love and the pursuits of private good, as any other parti- 
cular passions, and their respective pursuits. 

Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pursuit, 
any exception to this. For if by covetousness is meant the 
desire and pursuit of riches for their own sake, without any 
regard to, or consideration of, the uses of them; this hath as 
little to do with self-love, as benevolence hath. But by this 
word is usually meant, not such madness and total distrac- 
tion of mind, but immoderate affection to and pursuit of riches 
as possessions in order to some further end ; namely, satis- 
faction, interest, or good. This therefore is not a particular 
affection, or particular pursuit, but it is the general principle 
of self-love, and the general pursuit of our own interest ; for 
which reason, the word selfish is by every one appropriated 
to this temper and pursuit. Now as it is ridiculous to assert, 
that self-love and the love of our neighbour are the same : so 
neither is it asserted, that following these different affections 
hath the same tendency and respect to our own interest. The 
comparison is not between self-love and the love of our 



SERM. XI. 



our Neighbour. 



123 



neighbour ; between pursuit of our own interest, and the in- 
terest of others : but between the several particular affections 
in human nature towards external objects, as one part of the 
comparison ; and the one particular affection to the good of 
our neighbour, as the other part of it : and it has been shewn, 
that all these have the same respect to self-love and private 
interest. 

There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or interfering 
between self-love or private interest, and the several particular 
appetites, passions, affections, or the pursuits they lead to. 
But this competition or interfering is merely accidental ; 
and happens much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual 
gratifications, and private interest, than between private 
interest and benevolence. For nothing is more common, 
than to see men give themselves up to a passion or an affec- 
tion to their known prejudice and ruin, and in direct contra- 
diction to manifest and real interest, and the loudest calls of 
self-love: whereas the seeming competitions and interfering, 
between] benevolence and private interest, relate much more 
to the materials or means of enjoyment, than to enjoyment 
itself. There is often an interfering in the former, when 
there is none in the latter. Thus as to riches : so much 
money as a man gives away, so much less will remain in his 
possession. Here is a real interfering. But though a man 
cannot possibly give without lessening his fortune, yet 
there are multitudes might give without lessening their own 
enjoyment ; because they may have more than they can turn 
to any real use or advantage to themselves. Thus, the more 
thought and time any one employs about the interests and 
good of others, he must necessarily have less to attend his 
own ; but he may have so ready and large a supply of his 
own wants, that such thought might be really useless to him- 
self, though of great service and assistance to others. 

The general mistake, that there is some greater inconsist- 
ence between endeavouring to promote the good of another 
and self-interest, than between self-interest and pursuing any 
thing else, seems, as hath already beeen hinted, to arise from 
our notions of property; and to be carried on by this pro- 
perty's being supposed to be itself our happiness or good. 
People are so very much taken up with this one subject, that 
they seem from it to have formed a general way of thinking, 
which they apply to other things that they have nothing to do 
with. Hence, in a confused and slight way, it might well 



124 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XI. 



be taken for granted, that another's having no interest in an 
affection, (i. e. his good not being the object of it,) renders as 
one may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater ; and 
that if another had an interest in it, this would render 
his less, or occasion that such affection could not be so 
friendly to self-love, or conducive to private good, as an af- 
fection or pursuit which has not a regard to the good of an- 
other. This, I say, might be taken for granted, whilst it was 
not attended to, that the object of every particular affection 
is equally somewhat external to ourselves ; and whether it be 
the good of another person, or whether it be any other ex- 
ternal thing makes no alteration with regard to its being one's 
own affection, and the gratification of it one's own private 
enjoyment. And so far as it is taken for granted, that barely 
having the means and materials of enjoyment is what consti- 
tutes interest and happiness ; that our interest or good con- 
sists in possessions themselves, in having the property of 
riches, houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of them; 
so far it will even more strongly be taken for granted, in 
the way already explained, that an affection's conducing to 
the good of another, must even necessarily occasion it to 
conduce less to private good, if not to be positively detri- 
mental to it. For, if property and happiness are one and 
the same thing, as by increasing the property of another, you 
lessen your own property, so by promoting the happiness of 
another, you must lessen your own happiness. But what- 
ever occasion the mistake, I hope it has been fully proved to 
be one; as it has been proved, that there is no peculiar ri- 
valship or competition between self-love and benevolence ; 
that as there may be a competition between these two, so 
there may also between any particular affection whatever 
and self-love; that every particular affection, benevolence 
among the rest, is subservient to self-love, by being the in- 
strument of private enjoyment ; and that in one respect be- 
nevolence contributes more to private interest, L e. enjoyment 
or satisfaction, that any other of the particular common affec- 
tions, as it is in a degree its own gratification. 

And to all these things may be added, that religion, from 
whence arises our strongest obligation to benevolence, is so 
far from disowning the principle of self-love, that it often ad- 
dresses itself to that very principle, and always to the mind 
in that state when reason presides : and there can no access 
be had to the understanding, but by convincing men, that 



SERM. XI. 



our Neighbour. 



125 



the course of life we would persuade them to is not contrary 
to their interest. It may be allowed, without any prejudice 
to the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happi- 
ness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most im- 
portant to us ; that they will, nay, if you please, that they 
ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and har- 
mony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impos- 
sible there ever should be, any inconsistence between them : 
though these last too, as expressing the fitness of actions, 
are real as truth itself. Let it be allowed, though virtue or 
moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pur- 
suit of what is right and good, as such; yet, that when we 
sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves 
this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will 
be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it. 

Common reason and humanity, will have some influ- 
ence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations : but, 
so far as the interests of virtue depend upon the theory of it 
being secured from open scorn, so far its very being in the 
world depends upon its appearing to have no contrariety to 
private interest and self-love. The foregoing observations, 
therefore, it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in 
favour of the precept before us ; the particular explanation 
of which shall be the subject of the next discourse. 

I will conclude at present, with observing the peculiar ob- 
ligation which we are under to virtue and religion, as en- 
forced in the verses following the text, in the epistle for the 
day, from our Saviour's coming into the world. The night is 
far spent, the day is at hand ; let us therefore cast off the 
works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light, &c. 
The meaning and force of which exhortation is that Chris- 
tianity lays us under new obligations to a good life, as by it 
the will of God is more clearly revealed, and as it affords ad- 
ditional motives to the practice of it, over and above those 
which arise out of the nature of virtue and vice; I might add, 
as our Saviour has set us a perfect example of goodness in 
our own nature. Now love and charity is plainly the thing 
in which he hath placed his religion; in which therefore, 
as we have any pretence to the name of Christians, we must 
place ours. He hath at once enjoined it upon us by way of 
command with peculiar force; and by his example, as hav- 
ing undertaken the work of our salvation out of pure love and 
good- will to mankind. The endeavour to set home this ex- 



126 



Upon the Love of 



SERMr XII. 



ample upon our minds is a very proper employment of this 
season, which is bringing on the festival of his birth: which 
as it may teach us many excellent lessons of humility, re- 
signation, and obedience to the will of God ; so there is none 
it recommends with greater authority, force, and advantage, 
than this of love and charity ; since it was for us men, and 
for our salvation, that he came down from heaven, and was 
incarnate, and was made man; that he might teach us our 
duty, and more especially that he might enforce the practice 
of it, reform mankind, and finally bring us to that eternal sal- 
vation, of which he is the Author to all those that obey him. 

SERMON XIL 

UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 

And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this say- 
ing, namely , Thoushalt love thy neighbour as thyself. — Rom. xiii. 9. 

Having already removed the prejudices against public 
spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private 
interest and self-love ; I proceed to the particular explanation 
of the precept before us, by shewing, Who is our neighbour: 
In what sense we are required to love him as ourselves: 
The influence such love would have upon our behaviour in 
life: and lastly, How this commandment comprehends in it 
all others. 

I. The objects and due extent of this affection will be un- 
derstood by attending to the nature of it, and to the nature 
and circumstances of mankind in this world . The love of our 
neighbour is the same with charity, benevolence, or good- 
will : it is an affection to the good : and happiness of our fel- 
low-creatures. This implies in it a disposition to produce 
happiness : and this is the simple notion of goodness, which 
appears so amiable wherever we meet with it. From hence 
it is easy to see, that the perfection of goodness consists in 
love to the whole universe. This is the perfection of Al- 
mighty God. 

But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so small 
a part of the creation comes under his notice and influence, 
and as we are not used to consider things in so general a way;, 
it is not to be thought of, that the universe should be the 
object of benevolence to such creatures as we are. Thus in 



5ERM. xxi. our Neighbour. 217 

that precept of our Saviour, Be ye perfect, even as your Fa- 
ther, which is in heaven, is perfect* the perfection of the 
divine goodness is proposed to our imitation as it is promis- 
cuous, and extends to the evil as well as the good ; not as it 
is absolutely universal, imitation of it in this respect being 
plainly beyond us. The object is too vast. For this reason 
moral writers also have substituted a less general object for 
our benevolence, mankind. But this likewise is an object too 
general, and very much out of our view. Therefore persons 
more pratical have, instead of mankind, put our country ; and 
this is what we call a public spirit; which in men of public 
stations is the character of a patriot. But this is speaking 
to the upper part of the world. Kingdoms and governments 
are large; and the sphere of action of far the greatest part of 
mankind is much narrower than the government they live 
under : or however, common men do not consider their 
actions as affecting the whole community of which they are 
members. There plainly is wanting a less general and nearer 
object of benevolence for the bulk of men, than that of their 
country. Therefore the scripture, not being a book of theory 
and speculation, but a plain rule of life for mankind, has with 
the utmost possible propriety put the principle of virtue upon 
the love of our neighbour; which is that part of the universe, 
that part of mankind, that part of our country, which comes 
under our immediate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and 
with which we have to do. 

This is plainly the true account or reason, why our Saviour 
places the principle of virtue in the love of our neighbour ; 
and the account itself shews who are comprehended under 
that relation. 

II. Let us now consider in what sense we are commanded 
to love our neighbour as ourselves. 

This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus 
introduced : Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine 
heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength ; and thy 
neighbour as thyself These very different manners of expres- 
sion do not lead our thoughts to the same measure or degree 
of love, common to both objects ; but to one, peculiar to each. 
Supposing then, which is to be supposed, a distinct meaning 
and propriety in the words, as thyself; the precept we are 
considering will admit of any of these senses : that we bear 
the same kind of affection to our neighbour, as we do to our- 

* Matt. v. 48. 



128 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XII. 



selves : or, that the love we bear to our neighbour should 
have some certain proportion or other to self-love : or, lastly, 
that it should bear the particular proportion of equality, that 
it be in the same degree. 

First, The precept may be understood as requiring only, 
that we have the same kind of affection to our fellow-creatures, 
as to ourselves : that, as every man has the principle of self- 
love, which disposes him to avoid misery, and consult his own 
happiness ; so we should cultivate the affection of good- will 
to our neighbour, and that it should influence us to have the 
same kind of regard to him. This at least must be com- 
manded : and this will not only prevent our being injurious 
to him, but will also put us upon promoting his good. There 
are blessings in life, which we share in common with others ; 
peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. But real bene- 
volence to our fellow-creatures would give us the notion of 
a common interest in a stricter sense : for in the degree we 
j love another, his interest, his joys and sorrows, are our own. 
It is from self-love that we form the notion of private good, 
and consider it as our own : love of our neighbour would 
teach us thus to appropriate to ourselves his good and wel- 
fare ; to consider ourselves as having a real share in his hap- 
piness. Thus the principle of benevolence would be an ad- 
I vocate within our own breasts, to take care of the interests of 
' our fellow-creatures in all the interfering and competitions 
which cannot but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and 
the state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure, 
lessen that interfering ; and hinder men from forming so 
. strong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of 
I others, as we commonly do. Thus, as the private affection 
makes us in a peculiar manner sensible of humanity, justice 
or injustice, when exercised towards ourselves ; love of our 
neighbour would give us the same kind of sensibility in his 
behalf. This would be the greatest security of our uniform 
obedience to that most equitable rule ; Whatsoever ye would 
that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them. 

All this is indeed no more than that we should have a real 
love to our neighbour : but then, which is to be observed, the 
words, as thyself, express this in the most distinct manner, 
and determine the precept to relate to the affection itself. 
The advantage, which this principle of benevolence has over 
other remote considerations, is, that it is itself the temper of 
i virtue : and likewise, that it is th£ chief, nay, the only effectual 



SERM. XII. 



our Neighbour. 



129 



security of our performing the several offices of kindness we 
owe to our fellow-creatures. When from distant considera- 
tions men resolve upon any thing to which they have no 
liking, or perhaps an averseness, they are perpetually finding 
out evasions and excuses ; which need never be wanting, if 
people look for them : and they equivocate with themselves 
in the plainest cases in the world. This may be in respect to 
single determinate acts of virtue : but it comes in much more, 
where the obligation is to a general course of behaviour ; and 
most of all, if it be such as cannot be reduced to fixed deter- 
minate rules. This observation may account for the diversity 
of the expression, in that known passage of the prophet 
Micah : to do justly, and to love mercy. A man's heart must 
be formed to humanity and benevolence, he must love mercy, 
otherwise he will not act mercifully in any settled course of 
behaviour. As consideration of the future sanctions of religion 
is our only security of persevering in our duty, in cases of 
great temptations : so to get our heart and temper formed to 
a love and liking of what is good, is absolutely necessary in 
order to our behaving rightly in the familiar and daily inter- 
courses amongst mankind. 

Secondly, The precept before us may be understood to 
require, that we love our neighbour in some certain propor- 
tion or other, according as we love ourselves. And indeed a 
man's character cannot be determined by the love he bears 
to his neighbour, considered absolutely : but the proportion 
which this bears to self-love, whether it be attended to or not, 
is the chief thing which forms the character, and influences 
the actions. For, as the form of the body is a composition 
of various parts ; so likewise our inward structure is not simple 
or uniform, but a composition of various passions, appetites, 
affections, together with rationality ; including in this last 
both the discernment of what is right, and a disposition to 
regulate ourselves by it. There is greater variety of parts in 
what we call a character, than there are features in a face : 
and the morality of that is no more determined by one part, 
than the beauty or deformity of this is by one single feature : 
each is to be judged of by all the parts or features, not taken 
singly, but together. In the inward frame the various pas- 
sions, appetites^ affections, stand in different respects to each 
other. The principles in our mind may be contradictory, or 
checks and allays only, or incentives and assistants to each 
other. And principles, which in their nature have no kind 

BUTLER. I 



130 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XII. 



of contrariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each other's 
allays or incentives. 

From hence it comes to pass, that though we were able to 
look into the inward contexture of the heart, and see with the 
greatest exactness in what degree any one principle is in a 
particular man ; we could not from thence determine, how 
far that principle would go towards forming the character, or 
what influence it would have upon the actions, unless we could 
likewise discern what other principles prevailed in him, and 
see the proportion which that one bears to the others. Thus, 
though two men should have the affection of compassion in 
the same degres exactly : yet one may have the principle of 
resentment, or of ambition so strong in him, as to prevail over 
that of compassion, and prevent its having any influence upon 
his actions • so that he may deserve the character of an hard 
or cruel man : whereas the other having compassion in just 
the same degree only, yet having resentment or ambition in a 
lower degree, his compassion may prevail over them, so as to 
influence his actions, and to denominate his temper compas- 
sionate. So that, how strange soever it may appear to people 
who do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite manifest, that, 
when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate than 
another, this does not necessasily imply that one has the 
principle of resentment or of compassion stronger than the 
other. For if the proportion, which resentment or compas- 
sion bears to other inward principles, is greater in one than 
in the other : this is itself sufficient to denominate one more 
resenting or compassionate than the other. 

Further, the whole system, as I may speak, of affections 
(including rationality), which constitute the heart, as this 
word is used in scripture and on moral subjects, are each and 
all of them stronger in some than in others. Now the pro- 
portion which the two general affections, benevolence and 
self-love, bear to each other, according to this interpretation 
of the text, denominates men's character as to virtue. Sup- 
pose then one man to have the principle of benevolence in an 
higher degree than another: it will not follow from hence, 
that his general temper, or character, or actions, will be more 
benevolent than the other's. For he may have self-love in 
such a degree as quite to prevail over benevolence; so that 
it may have no influence at all upon his actions ; whereas 
benevolence in the other person, though in a lower degree, 
may yet be the strongest principle in his heart ; and strong 



serm. xii. our Neighbour. 131 

enough to be the guide of his actions, so as to denominate 
him a good and virtuous man. The case is here as in scales : 
it is not one weight, considered in itself, which determines 
whether the scale shall ascend or descend ; but this depends 
upon the proportion which that one weight hath to the other. 

It being thus manifest that the influence which benevo^ 
lence has upon our actions, and how far it goes towards form- 
ing our character, is not determined by the degree itself of 
this principle in our mind ; but by the proportion it has to 
self-love and other principles : a comparison also being made 
in the text between self-love and the love of our neighbour : 
these joint considerations afforded sufficient occasion for treat- 
ing here of that proportion: it plainly is implied in the pre- 
cept, though it should be questioned, whether it be the exact 
meaning of the words, as thyself. 

Love of our neighbour then must bear some proportion to 
self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in the due proportion. 
What this due proportion is, whether as a principle in the 
mind, or as exerted in actions, can be judged of only from 
our nature and condition in this world. Of the degree in 
which affections and the principles of action, considered in 
themselves, prevail, we have no measure : let us then pro- 
ceed to the course of behaviour, the actions they produce. 

Both our nature and condition require, that each particular 
man should make particular provision for himself : and the 
inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have to self- 
love, when brought down to practice, will be, what is a com- 
petent care and provision for ourselves. And how certain 
soever it be, that 'each man must determine this for himself; 
and how ridiculous soever it would be, for any to attempt to 
determine it for another : yet it is to be observed, that the 
proportion is real ; and that a competent provision has a 
bound ; and that it cannot be all which we can possibly 
get and keep within our grasp, without legal injustice. 
Mankind almost universally bring in vanity, supplies for 
what is called a life of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary 
notions of superiority over others, to determine this question : 
but every one who desires to act a proper part in society, 
would do well to consider, how far any of them come in to 
determine it, in the way of moral consideration. All that 
can be said is, supposing, what, as the world goes, is so much 
to be supposed that is scarce to be mentioned, that persons 
do not neglect what they really owe to themselves; the more 

i 2 



132 Upon the Love of serm. xii 

of their care and thought, and of their fortune, they employ 
in doing good to their fellow-creatures, the nearer they come 
up to the law of perfection, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as 
thyself. 

Thirdly, if the words, as thyself, were to be understood of 
an equality of affection; it would not be attended with those 
consequences, which perhaps may be thought to follow from 
it. Suppose a person to have the same settled regard to 
others, as to himself; that in every deliberate scheme or pur- 
suit he took their interest into the account in the same de- 
gree as his own, so far as an equality of affection would pro- 
duce this : yet he would in fact, and ought to be, much more 
taken up and employed about himself, and his own concerns, 
than about others, and their interests. For, besides the one 
common affection toward himself and his neighbour, he 
would have several other particular affections, passions, ap- 
petites, which he could not possibly feel in common both for 
himself and others : now these sensations themselves very 
much employ us ; and have perhaps as great influence as 
self-love. So far indeed as self-love, and cool reflection 
upon what is for our interest, would set us on work to gain a 
supply of our own several wants; so far the love of our neigh- 
would make us do the same for him : but the degree in which 
we are put upon seeking and making use of the means of 
gratification, by the feeling of those affections, appetites, and 
passions, must necessarily be peculiar to ourselves. 

That there are particular passions (suppose shame, resent- 
ment), which men seem to have, and feel in common, both 
for themselves and others, makes no alteration in respect to 
those passions and appetites which cannot possibly be thus 
felt in common. From hence (and perhaps more things of 
the like kind might be mentioned) it follows, that though 
there were an equality of affection to both, yet regard to 
ourselves, would be more prevalent than attention to the con- 
cerns of others. 

And from moral considerations it ought to be so, suppos- 
ing still the equality of affection commanded : because we 
are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted with our- 
selves ; and therefore care of our own interests, as well as of 
our conduct, particularly belongs to us. 

To these things must be added, that moral obligations can 
extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now we have a 
perception of our own interests, like consciousness of our own 



seem. xii. our Neighbour. 133 

existence, which we always carry about with us ; and which, 
in its continuation, kind, and degree, seems impossible to be 
felt in respect to the interests of others. 

From all these things it fully appears, that though we were 
to love our neighbour in the same degree as we love our- 
selves, so far as this is possible ; yet the care of ourselves, of 
the individual, would not be neglected; the apprehended 
danger of which seems to be the only objection against un- 
derstanding the precept in this strict sense. 

III. The general temper of mind which the due love of 
our neighbour would form us to, and the influence it would 
have upon our behaviour in life, is now to be considered. 

The temper and behaviour of charity is explained at large, 
in that known passage of St. Paul :* Charity suffereth long, 
and is kind; charity envieth not, doth not behave itself un- 
seemly, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, beareih all 
things, believeth all things, hopeth all things. As to the 
meaning of the expressions, seeketh not her own, thinketh no 
evil, believeth all things ; however those expressions may be 
explained away, this meekness, and in some degree easiness 
of temper, readiness to forego our right for the sake of peace, 
as well as in the way of compassion, freedom from mistrust, 
and disposition to believe well of our neighbour, this general 
temper, I say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love 
and good-will. And, though such is the world in which we 
live, that experience and knowledge of it not only may, but 
must beget in us greater regard to ourselves, and doubtfulness 
of the characters of others, than is natural to mankind; yet these 
ought not to be carried further than the nature and course of 
things make necessary. It is still true, even in the present 
state of things, bad as it is, that a real good man had rather 
be deceived, than be suspicious; had rather forego his 
known right, than run the venture of doing even a hard 
thing. This is the general temper of that charity, of which 
the apostle asserts, that if he had it not, giving his body to 
be burned would avail him nothing; and which he says shall 
never fail. 

The happy influence of this temper extends to every dif- 
ferent relation and circumstance in human life. It plainly 
renders a man better, more to be desired, as to all the re- 
spects and relations we can stand in to each other. The 
benevolent man is disposed to make use of all external ad- 

* 1 Cor. xiii. 



134 



Upon the Love of 



SER1VI. XII. 



vantages in such a manner as shall contribute to the good of 
others, as well as to his own satisfaction. His own satisfac- 
tion consists in this. He will be easy and kind to his de- 
pendents, compassionate to the poor and distressed, friendly 
to all with whom he has to do. This includes the good 
neighbour, parent, master, magistrate : and such a behaviour 
would plainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servi- 
tude, easy. So that a good or charitable man of superior 
rank in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common blessing to 
the place he lives in : happiness grows under his influence. 
This good principle in inferiors would discover itself in pay- 
ing respect, gratitude, obedience, as due. It were therefore 
methinks one just way of trying one's own character, to ask 
ourselves, am I in reality a better master or servant, a better 
friend, a better neighbour, than such and such persons; 
whom, perhaps, T may think not to deserve the character of 
virtue and religion so much as myself? 

And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails, 
amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which serve 
for a supply to it, some or other of which have obtained in 
all ages and countries : one who is thus friendly to his kind 
will immediately make due allowances for it, as what cannot 
but be amongst such creatures as men, in such a world as 
this. And as wrath and fury and overbearing upon these 
occasions proceed, as I may speak, from men's feeling only 
on their own side : so a common feeling, for others as well 
as for ourselves, would render us sensible to this truth, which 
it is strange can have so little influence ; that we ourselves 
differ from others, just as much as they do from us. I put 
the matter in this way, because it can scarce be expected 
that the generality of men should see, that those things which 
are made the occasions of dissension and fomenting the 
party- spirit, are really nothing at all : but it maybe expected 
from all people, how much soever they are in earnest about 
their respective peculiarities, that humanity, and common 
good- will to their fellow- creatures, should moderate and re- 
strain that wretched spirit. 

This good temper of charity likewise would prevent strife 
and enmity arising from other occasions : it would prevent 
our giving just cause of offence, and our taking it without 
cause. And in cases of real injury, a good man will make 
all the allowances which are to be made ; and, without any 
attempts of retaliation, he will only consult his own and 



serm. xii. our Neighbour. 135 

other men's security for the future, against injustice and 
wrong. 

IV. I proceed to consider lastly, what is affirmed of the 
precept now explained, that it comprehends in it all others; 
i. e. that to love our neighbour as ourselves includes in it all 
virtues. 

Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or gene- 
ral speculative assertion, when it is to be explained at large, 
should be treated, is, to shew what are the particular truths 
which were designed to be comprehended under such a ge- 
neral observation, how far it is strictly true ; and then the 
limitations, restrictions, and exceptions, if there be excep- 
tions, with which it is to be understood. But it is only the 
former of these ; namely, how far the assertion in the text 
holds, and the ground of the preeminence assigned to the 
precept of it, which in strictness comes into our present con- 
sideration. 

However, in almost every thing that is said, there is some- 
what to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid down, 
and which we of course supply ; somewhat, I mean, which 
would not be commonly called a restriction, or limitation. 
I Thus, when benevolence is said to be the sum of virtue, it is 
not spoken of as a blind propension, but as a principle in rea- 
sonable creatures, and so to be directed by their reason : for 
reason and reflection come into our notion of a moral agent. 
And that will lead us to consider distant consequences, as well 
as the immediate tendency of an action : it will teach us, that 
the care of some persons, suppose children and families, is par- 
ticularly committed to our charge by Nature and Providence ; 
as also that there are other circumstances, suppose friend- 
ship or former obligations, which require that we do good 
to some preferably to others. Reason, considered merely as 
subservient to benevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest 
good, will teach us to have particular regard to these rela- 
tions and circumstances ; because it is plainly for the good 
of the world that they should be regarded. And as there 
are numberless cases, in which, notwithstanding appearances, 
we are not competent judges, whether a particular action will 
upon the whole do good or harm; reason in the same way 
will teach us to be cautious how we act in these cases of 
uncertainty. It will suggest to our consideration, which is 
the safer side; how liable we are to be led wrong by passion 
and private interest; and what regard is due to laws, and 



136 



Upon the Love of 



SERM. XII 



the judgment of mankind. All these things must come into 
consideration, were it only in order to determine which way 
of acting is likely to produce the greatest good. Thus, upon 
supposition that it were in the strictest sense true, without 
limitation, that benevolence includes in it all virtues ; yet 
reason must come in as its guide and director, in order to 
attain its own end, the end of benevolence, the greatest pub- 
lic good. Reason then being thus included, let us now con- 
sider the truth of the assertion itself. 

First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence to 
mankind or any creature, but happiness. This then is all 
which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be said to 
have a right to. We can therefore owe no man any thing, 
but only to further and promote his happiness, according to 
our abilities. And therefore a disposition and endeavour to 
do good to all with whom we have to do, in the degree and 
manner which the different relations we stand in to them 
require, is a discharge of all the obligations we are under to 
them. 

As human nature is not one simple uniform thing, but a 
composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, particu- 
lar passions, and affections ; for each of which reasonable 
self-love would lead men to have due regard, and make suit- 
able provision : so society consists of various parts, to which 
we stand in different respects and relations ; and just bene 
volence would as surely lead us to have due regard to each 
of these, and behave as the respective relations require. 
Reasonable good- will, and right behaviour towards our fel- 
low-creatures, are in a manner the same : only that the former 
expresseth the principle as it is in the mind ; the latter, the 
principle as it were become external, i. e. exerted in actions. 

And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in sen- 
sual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any respect to 
our fellow-creatures, any influence upon their quiet, welfare, 
and happiness ; as they always have a real, and often a near 
influence upon it ; so far it is manifest those virtues may be 
produced by the love of our neighbour, and that the contrary 
vices would be prevented by it. Indeed if men's regard to 
themselves will not restrain them from excess ; it may be 
thought little probable, that their love to others will be suf- 
ficient : but the reason is, that their love to others is not, any 
more than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due 
degree. There are however manifest instances of persons 



SERM. XII. 



our Neighbour. 



137 



kept sober and temperate from regard to their affairs, and 
the welfare of those who depend upon them. And it is obvi- 
ous to every one, that habitual excess, a dissolute course of 
life, implies a general neglect of the duties we owe towards 
our friends, our families, and our country. 

From hence it is manifest that the common virtues, and 
the common vices of mankind, may be traced up to benevo- 
lence, or the want of it. And this entitles the precept, Thou 
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, to the preeminence given 
to it ; and is a justification of the Apostle's assertion, that all 
other commandments are comprehended in it ; whatever cau- 
tions and restrictions* there are, which might require to be 
considered, if we were to state particularly and at length, 
what is virtue and right behaviour in mankind. But, 

Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more 
general way of consideration, leaving out the particular na- 
ture of creatures, and the particular circumstances in which 

* For instance : as we are not competent judges, what is upon the 
whole for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends ap- 
pointed us to pursue, besides that one of doing good, or producing happi- 
ness. Though the good of the creation be the only end of the Author of 
it, yet he may have laid us under particular obligations, which we may 
discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a perception, that the 
observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery of our fel- 
low-creatures. And this is in fact the case. For there are certain dispo- 
sitions of mind, and certain actions, which are in themselves approved or 
disapproved by mankind, abstracted from the consideration of their ten- 
dency to the happiness or misery of the world ; approved or disapproved 
by reflection, by that principle within, which is the guide of life, the judge 
of right and wrong. Numberless instances of this kind might be men- 
tioned. There are pieces of treachery, which in themselves appear base 
and detestable to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce 
have any other general name given them, than indecencies, which yet are 
odious and shocking to human nature. There is such a thing as mean- 
ness, a little mind ; which, as it is quite distinct from incapacity, so it raises 
a dislike and disapprobation quite different from that contempt, which men 
are too apt to have, of mere folly. On the other hand; what we call 
greatness of mind is the object of another sort of approbation, than supe- 
rior understanding. Fidelity, honour, strict justice, are themselves ap- 
proved in the highest degree, abstracted from the consideration of their 
tendency. Now, whether it be thought that each of these are connected 
with benevolence in our nature, and so may be considered as the same 
thing with it ; or whether some of them be thought an inferior kind of vir- 
tues and vices, somewhat like natural beauties and deformities ; or lastly, 
plain exceptions to the general rule ; thus much however is certain, that 
the things now instanced in, and numberless others, are approved or 
disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another view than as con- 
ducive to the happiness or misery of the world. 



138 Upon the Love of our Neighbour, serm. xii. 

they are placed, benevolence seems in the strictest sense to 
include in it all that is good and worthy ; all that is good, 
which we have any distinct particular notion of. We have 
no clear conception of any positive moral attribute in the 
supreme Being, but what maybe resolved up into goodness. 
And, if we consider a reasonable creature or moral agent, 
without regard to the particular relations and circumstances 
in which he is placed ; we cannot conceive any thing else to 
come in towards determining whether he is to be ranked in 
a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but the higher 

O . em . O 7 O 

or lower degree in which that principle, and what is mani- 
festly connected with it, prevail in him. 

That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of God, 
and which is an essential part of a right temper, some may 
perhaps imagine no way connected with benevolence : yet 
surely they must be connected, if there be indeed in being 
an object infinitely good. Human nature is so constituted, 
that every good affection implies the love of itself ; i. e. be- 
comes the object of a new affection in the same person. 
Thus, to be righteous, implies in it the love of righteousness ; 
to be benevolent, the love of benevolence ; to be good, the 
love of goodness ; whether this righteousness, benevolence, 
or goodness, be viewed as in our own mind, or in another's : 
and the love of God as a being perfectly good, is the love of 
perfect goodness contemplated in a being or person. Thus 
morality and religion, virtue and piety, will at last necessa- 
rily coincide, run up into one and the same point, and love 
will be in all senses the end of the commandment. 

O Almighty God, inspire us with this divine principle ; kill 
in us all the seeds of envy and ill-will ; and help us, by cul- 
tivating within ourselves the love of our neighbour, to im- 
prove in the love of thee. Thou hast placed in us various 
kindreds, friendships, and relations, as the school of disci- 
pline for our affections : help us, by the due exercise of 
them, to improve to perfection ; till all partial affection be 
lost in that entire universal one, and thou, O God, shalt be 
all in all. 



139 



SERMON XIII. XIV. 

UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
and with all thy mi?id.—Md.tt. xxii. 37. 

Every body knows, you therefore need only just be put in 
mind, that there is such a thing, as having so great horror of 
one extreme, as to run insensibly and of course into the con- 
trary ; and that a doctrine's having been a shelter for enthu- 
siasm, or made to serve the purposes of superstition, is no 
proof of the falsity of it : truth or right being somewhat real 
in itself, and so not to be judged of by its liableness to abuse, 
or by its supposed distance from or nearness to error. It may 
be sufficient to have mentioned this in general, without tak- 
ing notice of the particular extravagancies, which have been 
vented under the pretence or endeavour of explaining the love 
of God ; or how manifestly we are got into the contrary 
extreme, under the notion of a reasonable religion ; so very 
reasonable, as to have nothing to do with the heart and affec- 
tions, if these words signify any thing but the faculty by which 
we discern speculative truth. 

By the love of God, I would understand all those regards, 
all those affections of mind which are due immediately to him 
from such a creature as man, and which rest in him as their 
end. As this does not include servile fear ; so neither will 
any other regards, how reasonable soever, which respect any 
thing out of or besides the perfection of divine nature, come 
into consideration here. But all fear is not excluded, because 
his displeasure is itself the natural proper object of fear. 
Reverence, ambition of his love and approbation, delight in 
the hope or consciousness of it, come likewise into this defi- 
nition of the love of God ; because he is the natural object 
of all those affections or movements of mind, as really as he is 
the object of the affection, which is in the strictest sense 
called love ; and all of them equally rest in him, as their end. 
And they may all be understood to be implied in these words 
of our Saviour, without putting any force upon them : for he 
is speaking of the love of God and our neighbour, as contain- 
ing the whole of piety and virtue. 

It is plain that the nature of man is so constituted, as to 



140 , Upon the Love of God. seiim. xiii. 

feel certain affections upon the sight or contemplation of cer- 
tain objects. Now the very notion of affection implies rest- 
ing in its object as an end. And the particular affection to 
good characters, reverence and moral love of them, is natural 
to all those who have any degree of real goodness in them- 
selves. This will be illustrated by the description of a per- 
fect character in a creature ; and by considering the manner, 
in which a good man in his presence would be affected 
towards such a character. He would of course feel the affec- 
tions of love, reverence, desire of his approbation, delight in 
the hope or consciousness of it. And surely all this is appli- 
cable, and maybe brought up to that Being, who is infinitely 
more than an adequate object of all those affections : whom 
we are commanded to love with all our heart, with all our 
soul, and with all our mind. And of these regards towards 
Almighty God, some are more particularly suitable to and 
becoming so imperfect a creature as man, in this mortal state 
we are passing through ; and some of them, and perhaps 
other exercises of the mind, will be the employment and 
happiness of good men in a state of perfection. 

This is a general view of what the following discourse 
will contain. And it is manifest the subject is a real one : 
there is nothing in it enthusiastical or unreasonable. And if 
it be indeed at all a subject, it is one of the utmost impor- 
tance. 

As mankind have a faculty by which they discern specu- 
lative truth ; so we have various affections towards external 
objects. Understanding and temper, reason and affection, 
are as distinct ideas, as reason and hunger ; and one would 
think could no more be confounded. It is by reason that we 
get the ideas of several objects of our affections : but in these 
cases reason and affection are no more the same, than sight 
of a particular object, and the pleasure or uneasiness conse- 
quent thereupon, are the same. Now, as reason tends to and 
rests in the discernment of truth, the object of it ; so the very 
nature of affection consists in tending towards, and resting 
in, its objects as an end. We do indeed often in common 
language say, that things are loved, desired, esteemed, not 
for themselves, but for somewhat further, somewhat out of 
and beyond them : yet, in these cases, whoever will attend, 
will see, that these things are not in reality the objects of the 
affections, i, e. are not loved, desired, esteemed, but the some- 
what further and beyond them. If we have no affections 



serm. xiii. Upon the Love of God. 141 

which rest in what are called their objects, then what is called 
affection, love, desire, hope, in human nature, is only an 
uneasiness in being at rest ; an unquiet disposition to 
action, progress, pursuit, without end or meaning. But 
if there be any such thing as delight in the company of 
one person, rather than of another; whether in the way 
of friendship, or mirth and entertainment, it is all one, if it 
be without respect to fortune, honour, or increasing our 
stores of knowledge, or any thing beyond the present 
time; here is an instance of an affection absolutely rest- 
ing in its objects as its end, and being gratified in the 
same way as the appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. 
Yet nothing is more common than to hear it asked, what 
advantage a man hath in such a course, suppose of study, 
particular friendships, or in any other: nothing, I say, is 
more common than to hear such a question put in a 
way which supposes no gain, advantage, or interest, but as 
a means to somewhat further : and if so, then there is no 
such thing at all as real interest, gain, or advantage. This 
is the same absurdity with respect to life, as infinite series 
of effects without a cause is in speculation. The gain, ad- 
vantage, or interest, consists in the delight itself, arising from 
such a faculty's having its object : neither is there any such 
thing as happiness or enjoyment, but what arises from hence. 
The pleasures of hope and of reflection are not exceptions : 
the former being only this happiness anticipated; the latter, 
the same happiness enjoyed over again after its time. And 
even the general expectation of future happiness can afford 
satisfaction, only as it is a present object to the principle of 
self-love. 

It was doubtless intended, that life should be very much 
a pursuit to the gross of mankind. But this is carried so 
much further than is reasonable, that what gives immediate 
satisfaction, i. e. our present interest, is scarce considered as 
our interest at all. It is inventions which have only a remote 
tendency towards enjoyment, perhaps but a remote tendency 
towards gaining the means only of enjoyment, which are 
chiefly spoken of as useful to the world. And though this 
way of thinking were just with respect to the imperfect state 
we are now in, where we know so little of satisfaction without 
satiety ; yet it must be guarded against, when we are consi- 
dering the happiness of a state of perfection ; which happi- 
ness being enjoyment and not hope, must necessarily consist 



142 



Upo?i the Love of God. 



SERM. XIII. 



in this, that our affections have their objects, and rest in those 
objects as an end, i. e. be satisfied with them. This will 
further appear in the sequel of this discourse. 

Of the several affections, or inward sensations, which par- 
ticular objects excite in man, there are some, the having of 
which implies the love of them, when they are reflected upon.* 
This cannot be said of all our affections, principles, and mo- 
tives of action. It were ridiculous to assert, that a man upon 
reflection hath the same kind of approbation of the appetite of 
hunger, or the passion of fear, as he hath of good-will to his 
fellow-creatures. To be a just, a good, a righteous man, 
plainly carries with it a peculiar affection to or love of justice, 
goodness, righteousness, when these principles are the ob- 
jects of contemplation. Now if a man approves of, or hath 
an affection to, any principle in and for itself, incidental 
things allowed for, it will be the same whether he views it in 
his own mind, or in another; in himself, or in his neighbour. 
This is the account of our approbation of, our moral love and 
affection to good characters ; which cannot but be in those 
who have any degrees of real goodness in themselves, and 
who discern and take notice of the same principle in others. 

From observation of what passes within ourselves our own 
actions, and the behaviour of others, the mind may carry on 
its reflections as far as it pleases ; much beyond what we 
experience in ourselves, or discern in our fellow-creatures. 
It may go on, and consider goodness as become a uniform 
continued principle of action, as conducted by reason, and 
forming a temper and character absolutely good and perfect, 
which is in a higher sense excellent, and proportionably the 
object of love and approbation. 

Let us then suppose a creature perfect according to his 
created nature : let his form be human, and his capacities no 
more than equal to those of the chief of men : goodness shall 
be his proper character; with wisdom to direct it, and power 
within some certain determined sphere of action to exert it; 
but goodness must be the simple actuating principle within 
him ; this being the moral quality which is amiable, or the 
immediate object of love as distinct from other affections of 

* St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo bene 
amatur quod amandum est, ut sit in nobis virtus qui vivitur bene. i. e. 

The affection which m rightly have for what is lovely, must ordinate justly, in 
due manner and proportion, become the object of a new affection, or be itself 
beloved, in order to our being endued with that virtue which is the principle of a 
good life. Civ. Dei. 1. xv. c. 22. 



serm. xiii. Upon the Love of God. 143 

approbation. Here then is a finite object for our mind to 
tend towards, to exercise itself upon : a creature, perfect ac- 
cording to his capacity, fixed, steady, equally unmoved by 
weak pity or more weak fury and resentment; forming the 
justest scheme of conduct; going on undisturbed in the execu- 
tion of it, through the several methods of severity and reward, 
towards his end, namely, the general happiness of all with 
whom he hath to do, as in itself right and valuable. This 
character, though uniform in itself, in its principle, yet exerting 
itself in different ways, or considered in different views, may 
by its appearing variety move different affections. Thus, 
the severity of justice would not affect us in the same w 7 ay as 
an act of mercy : the adventitious qualities of wisdom and 
power may be considered in themselves : and even the strength 
of mind, which this immoveable goodness supposes, may like- 
wise be viewed as an object of contemplation, distinct from 
the goodness itself. Superior excellence of any kind, as well 
as superior wisdom and power, is the object of awe and re- 
verence to all creatures, whatever their moral character be : 
but so far as creatures of the lowest rank were good, so far 
the view of this character, as simply good, must appear ami- 
able to them, be the object of, or beget love. Further, sup- 
pose we were conscious, that this superior person so far ap- 
proved of us, that we had nothing servilely to fear from him; 
that he was really our friend, and kind and good to us in 
particular, as he had occasionally intercourse with us : we 
must be other creatures than we are, or we could not but feel 
the same kind of satisfaction and enjoyment (whatever would 
be the degree of it) from this higher acquaintance and friend- 
ship, as we feel from common ones ; the intercourse being 
real, and the persons equally present, in both cases. We 
should have a more ardent desire to be approved by his better 
judgment, and a satisfaction in that approbation of the same 
sort with what would be felt in respect to common persons, 
or be wrought in us by their presence. 

Let us now raise the character, and suppose this creature, 
for we are still going on with the supposition of a creature, 
our proper guardian and governor; that we were in a pro- 
gress of being towards somewhat further; and that his 
scheme of government was too vast for our capacities to com- 
prehend : remembering still that he is perfectly good, and 
our friend as well as our governor. Wisdom, power, good- 
ness, accidentally viewed any where, would inspire reverence, 



J44 



Upon the Love of God. serm. xiii. 



awe, love : and as these affections would be raised in higher 
or lower degrees, in proportion as we had occasionally more 
or less intercourse with the creature endued with those quali- 
ties; so this further consideration and knowledge, that he 
was our proper guardian and governor, would much more 
bring these objects and qualities home to ourselves; teach us 
they had a greater respect to us in particular, that we had a 
higher interest in that wisdom and power and goodness. We 
should, with joy, gratitude, reverence, love, trust, and de- 
pendance, appropriate the character, as what we had a right 
in; and make our boast in such our relation to it. And the 
conclusion of the whole would be, that we should refer our- 
selves implicitly to him, and cast ourselves entirely upon him. 
As the whole attention of life should be to obey his com- 
mands; so the highest enjoyment of it must arise from the 
contemplation of this character, and our relation to it, from 
a consciousness of his favour and approbation, and from the 
exercise of those affections towards him which could not but 
be raised from his presence. A Being who hath these attri- 
butes, who stands in this relation, and is thus sensibly present 
to the mind, must necessarily be the object of these affections : 
there is as real a correspondence between them, as between 
the lowest appetite of sense and its object. 

That this Being is not a creature, but the Almighty God ; 
that he is of infinite power and wisdom and goodness, does 
not render him less the object of reverence and love, than 
he would be if he had those attributes only in a limited de- 
gree. The Being who made us, and upon whom we entirely 
depend, is the object of some regards. He hath given us 
certain affections of mind, which correspond to wisdom, 
power, goodness ; i. e. which are raised upon view of those 
qualities. If then he be really wise, powerful, good ; he is 
the natural object of those affections, which he has endued us 
with, and which correspond to those attributes. That he is 
infinite in power, perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no 
alteration, but only that he is the object of those affections 
raised to the highest pitch. He is not indeed to be discerned 
by any of our senses. I go forward, but he is not there ; and 
backward, but I cannot perceive him: on the left hand where 
he doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on 
the right hand, that I cannot see him. O that I knew where 
I might find him! that I might come even to his seat /* But 

* Job xxii. 



S £ li 31 . XIII. 



Upon the Love of God. 



145 



is he then afar off? does he not fill heaven and earth with his 
presence? The presence of our fellow-creatures affects our 
senses, and our senses give us the knowledge of their pre- 
sence; which hath different kinds of influence upon us; love, 
joy, sorrow, restraint, encouragement, reverence. However 
this influence is not immediately from our senses, but from 
that knowledge. Thus suppose a person neither to see nor 
hear another, not to know by any of his senses, but yet cer- 
tainly to know, that another was with him ; this knowledge 
might, and in many cases would, have one or more of the 
effects before mentioned. It is therefore not only reason- 
able, but also natural, to be affected with a presence, though 
it be not the object of our senses : whether it be, or be not, is 
merely an accidental circumstance, which needs not come 
into consideration: it is the certainty that he is with us, and 
we with him, which hath the influence. We consider per- 
sons then as present, not only when they are within reach of 
our senses, but also when we are assured by any other means 
that they are within such a nearness; nay, if they are not, 
we can recall them to our mind, and be moved towards them 
as present: and must He, who is so much more intimately 
with us, that in him we live and move and have our being, be 
thought too distant to be the object of our affections? We 
own and feel the force of amiable and worthy qualities in our 
fellow-creatures: and can we be insensible to the contem- 
plation of perfect goodness? Do we reverence the shadows 
of greatness here below, are we solicitous about honour and 
esteem and the opinion of the world : and shall we not feel 
the same with respect to him, whose are wisdom and power 
in their original, who is the God of judgment by whom actions 
are weighed? Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem, every 
faculty, every affection, tends towards, and is employed about 
its respective object in common cases: and must, the exercise 
of them be suspended with regard to him alone, who is an 
object, an infinitely more than adequate object, to our most 
exalted faculties; him, of whom, and through whom, and 
to whom are all things? 

As we cannot remove from this earth, or change our gene- 
ral business on it, so neither can we alter our real nature. 
Therefore no exercise of the mind can be recommended, but 
only the exercise of those faculties you are conscious of. Re- 
ligion does not demand new affections, but only claims the 
direction of those you already have, those affections you daily 

BUTLER. K 



146 



Upon the Love of God. sekm. xiii. 



feel; though unhappily confined to objects, not altogether 
unsuitable, but altogether unequal to them. We only repre- 
sent to you the higher, the adequate objects of those very fa- 
culties and affections. Let the man of ambition go on still to 
consider disgrace as the greatest evil ; honour, as his chief 
good. But disgrace, in whose estimation? Honour, in whose 
judgment? This is the only question. If shame, and delight 
in esteem, be spoken of as real, as any settled ground of pain 
or pleasure ; both these must be in proportion to the sup- 
posed wisdom and worth of him, by whom we are contemned 
or esteemed. Must it then be thought enthusiastical to speak 
of a sensibility of this sort, which shall have respect to an 
unerring judgment, to infinite wisdom; when we are assured 
this unerring judgment, this infinite wisdom, does observe 
upon our actions? 

It is the same with respect to the love of God in the strict- 
est and most confined sense. We only offer and represent 
the highest object of an affection, supposed already in your 
mind. Some degree of goodness must be previously sup- 
posed : this always implies the love of itself, an affection to 
goodness : the highest, the adequate object of this affection, 
is perfect goodness ; which therefore we are to love with all 
our heart, with all our soul, and with all our strength . " Must 
we then, forgetting our own interest, as it were go out of our- 
selves, and love God for his own sake ?" No more forget your 
own interest, no more go out of yourselves, than when you 
prefer one place, one prospect, the conversation of one man 
to that of another. Does not every affection necessarily im- 
ply, that the object of it be itself loved? If it be not, it is not 
the object of the affection. You may and ought if you can, 
but it is a great mistake to think you can love or fear or hate 
any thing, from consideration that such love or fear or hatred 
may be a means of obtaining good or avoiding evil. But the 
question, whether we ought to love God for his sake or for 
our own, being a mere mistake in language ; the real ques- 
tion, which this is mistaken for, will, I suppose, be answered 
by observing, that the goodness of God already exercised 
towards us, our present dependence upon him, and our ex- 
pectation of future benefits, ought, and have a natural ten- 
dency, to beget in us the affection of gratitude, and greater 
love towards him, than the same goodness exercised towards 
others : were it only for this reason, that every affection is 
moved in proportion to the sense we have of the object of it; 



s m r m . xiv. Upon th t Lo ve of God. 147 

and we cannot but have a more lively sense of goodness, 
when exercised towards ourselves, than when exercised to- 
wards others. I added expectation of future benefits, because 
the ground of that expectation is present goodness. 

Thus Almighty God is the natural object of the several 
affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of approbation. For 
though he is simply one, yet we cannot but consider him in 
partial and different views. He is in himself one uniform 
being, and for ever the same without variableness or shadow 
of turning : but his infinite greatness, his goodness, his wis- 
dom, are different objects to our mind. To which is to be 
added, that from the changes in our characters, together with 
his unchangeableness, we cannot but consider ourselves as 
more or less the objects of his approbation, and really be so. 
For if he approves what is good, he cannot, merely from the 
unchangeableness of his nature, approve what is evil. Hence 
must arise more various movements of mind, more different 
kinds of affections. And this greater variety also is just and 
reasonable in such creatures as we are, though it respects a 
Being simply one, good and perfect. As some of these 
affections are most particularly suitable to so imperfect a 
creature as man, in this mortal state we are passing through ; 
so there may be other exercises of mind, or some of these 
in higher degrees, our employment and happiness in a state 
of perfection. 

SERMON XIV. 

Consider then our ignorance, the imperfection of our na- 
ture, our virtue and our condition in this world, with respect 
to an infinitely good and just Being, our Creator and Go- 
vernor; and you will see what religious affections of mind 
are most particularly suitable to this mortal state we are pass- 
ing through. 

Though we are not affected with any thing so strongly, as 
what we discern with our senses ; and though our nature 
and condition require, that we be much taken up about sen- 
sible things ; yet our reason convinces us that God is present 
with us, and we see and feel the effects of his goodness : he 
is therefore the object of some regards. The imperfection 
of our virtue, joined with the consideration of his absolute 
rectitude or holiness, will scarce permit that perfection of 
love, which entirely casts out all fear : yet goodness is the 

k 2 



148 Upon the Love of God. sekm. xiv. 

object of love to all creatures who have any degree of it 
themselves ; and consciousness of a real endeavour to ap- 
prove ourselves to him, joined with the consideration of his 
goodness, as it quite excludes servile dread and horror, so it 
is plainly a reasonable ground for hope of his favour. Nei- 
ther fear, nor hope, nor love then are excluded : and one or 
another of these will prevail, according to the different views 
we have of God ; and ought to prevail, according to the 
changes we find in our own character. There is a temper 
of mind made up of, or which follows from all three, fear, 
hope, love ; namely, resignation to the divine will, which is 
the general temper belonging to this state ; which ought to 
be the habitual frame of our mind and heart, and to be ex- 
ercised at proper seasons more distinctly, in acts of devotion. 

Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety : it 
includes in it all that is good, and is a source of the most 
settled quiet and composure of mind. There is the general 
principle of submission in our nature. Man is not so consti- 
tuted as to desire things, and be uneasy in the want of them, 
in proportion to their known value : many other considera- 
tions come in to determine the degrees of desire; particu- 
larly whether the advantage we take a view of be within the 
sphere of our rank. Who ever felt uneasiness, upon ob- 
serving any of the advantages brute creatures have over us? 
And yet it is plain they have several. It is the same with 
respect to advantages belonging to creatures of a superior 
order. Thus, though we see a thing to be highly valuable, 
yet that it does not belong to our condition of being, is suffi- 
cient to suspend our desires after it, to make us rest satisfied 
without such advantage. Now there is just the same reason 
for quiet resignation in the want of every thing equally un- 
attainable, and out of our reach in particular, though others 
of our species be possessed of it. All this may be applied 
to the whole of life; to positive inconveniences as well as 
wants ; not indeed to the sensations of pain and sorrow, but 
to all the uneasinesses of reflection, murmuring, and discon- 
tent. Thus is human nature formed to compliance, yield- 
ing, submission of temper. We find the principles of it 
within us ; and every one exercises it towards some objects 
or other ; i. e. feels it with regard to some persons, and some 
circumstances. Now this is an excellent foundation of a 
reasonable and religious resignation. Nature teaches and 
inclines us to take up with our lot : the consideration, that 



SERM. XIV. 



Upon the Love of God. 



149 



the course of things is unalterable, hath a tendency to quiet 
the mind under it, to beget a submission of temper to it. 
But when we can add, that this unalterable course is ap- 
pointed and continued by infinite wisdom and goodness; 
how absolute should be our submission, how entire our trust 
and dependence ! 

This would reconcile us to our condition ; prevent all the 
supernumerary troubles arising from imagination, distant 
fears, impatience ; all uneasiness, except that which neces- 
sarily arises from the calamities themselves we may be under. 
How many of our cares should we by this means be disbur- 
dened of! Cares not properly our own, how apt soever they 
may be to intrude upon us, and we to admit them ; the 
anxieties of expectation, solicitude about success and disap- 
j pointment, which in truth are none of our concern. How 
open to every gratification would that mind be, which was 
clear of these encumbrances ! 

Our resignation to the will of God may be said to be per- 
fect, when our will is lost and resolved up into his ; when 
we rest in his will as our end, as being itself most just, and 
right, and good. And where is the impossibility of such an 
affection to what is just, and right, and good, such a loyalty 
of heart to the Governor of the universe, as shall prevail 
over all sinister indirect desires of our own? Neither is this 
at bottom any thing more than faith, and honesty, and fair- 
ness of mind ; in a more enlarged sense indeed, than those 
words are commonly used. And as, in common cases, fear 
and hope and other passions are raised in us by their respec- 
tive objects : so this submission of heart and soul and mind, 
this religious resignation, would be as naturally produced by 
our having just conceptions of Almighty God, and a real 
sense of his presence with us. In how low a degree soever 
this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it is a temper 
right in itself : it is what we owe to our Creator : it is par- 
ticularly suitable to our mortal condition, and what we should 
endeavour after for our own sakes in our passage through 
such a world as this ; where is nothing upon which we can 
rest or depend; nothing but what we are liable to be de- 
ceived and disappointed in. Thus we might acquaint our- 
selves with God, and be at peace. This is piety and reli- 
gion in the strictest sense, considered as an habit of mind ; 
an habitual sense of God's presence with us ; being affected 
towards him, as present, in the manner his superior nature 



150 



Upon the Love of God. 



SERM. XIV. 



requires from such a creature as man : this is to walk with 
God, 

Little more need be said of devotion or religious worship, 
than that it is this temper exerted into act. The nature of it 
consists in the actual exercise of those affections towards 
God, which are supposed habitual in good men. He is 
always equally present with us : but we are so much taken 
up with sensible things, that Lo, he goeth by us, and we see 
him not : he passeth on also, but we perceive him not* De- 
votion is retirement, from the world he has made, to him 
alone : it is to withdraw from the avocations of sense, to em- 
ploy our attention wholly upon him as upon an object actu- 
ally present, to yield ourselves up to the influence of the 
divine presence, and to give full scope to the affections of 
gratitude, love, reverence, trust, and dependence; of which 
infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, is the natural and only 
adequate object. W e may apply to the whole of devotion 
those words of the son of Sirach, When you glorify the Lord, 
exalt him as much as you can; for even yet will he far exceed; 
and when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and be 
not weary ; for you can never go far enough* Our most 
raised affections of every kind cannot but fall short and be 
disproportionate, when an infinite Being is the object of them. 
This is the highest exercise and employment of mind that a 
creature is capable of. As this divine service and worship 
is itself absolutely due to God, so also is it necessary in order 
to a further end, to keep alive upon our minds a sense of his 
authority, a sense that in our ordinary behaviour amongst 
men we act under him as our governor and judge. 

Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God, which is 
particularly suitable to a state of imperfection ; to creatures 
in a progress of being towards somewhat further. 

Suppose now this something further attained; that we were 
arrived at it : what a perception will it be, to see and know 
and feel that our trust was not vain, our dependence not 
groundless ? that the issue, event, and consummation came 
out such as fully to justify and answer that resignation ? If 
the obscure view of the divine perfection, which we have in 
this world, ought in just consequence to beget an entire 
resignation ; what will this resignation be exalted into, when 
we shall see face to face, and know as we are known? If we 
cannot form any distinct notion of that perfection of the love 
* Job i*. 11. t Eccius. xliii. 30. 



SERM. XIV. 



Upon the Love of God. 



151 



of God, which casts out all fear; of that enjoyment of him, 
which will be the happiness of good men hereafter ; the con- 
sideration of our wants and capacities of happiness, and that 
he will be an adequate supply to them, must serve us instead 
of such distinct conception of the particular happiness itself. 

Let us then suppose a man entirely disengaged from busi- 
ness and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leisure, to reflect 
upon himself and his own condition of being. He would 
immediately feel that he was by no means complete of him- 
self, but totally insufficient for his own happiness. One may 
venture to affirm, that every man hath felt this, whether he 
hath again reflected upon it or not. It is feeling this de- 
ficiency, that they are unsatisfied with themselves, which 
makes men look out for assistance from abroad ; and which 
has given rise to various kinds of amusements, altogether 
needless any otherwise than as they serve to fill up the blank 
spaces of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and 
being uneasy with themselves. Now, if these external things 
we take up with were really an adequate supply to this defi- 
ciency of human nature, if by their means our capacities and 
desires were all satisfied and filled up ; then it might be truly 
said, that we had found out the proper happiness of man : 
and so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest in the enjoy- 
ment of it. But if it appears, that the amusements, which 
men usually pass their time in, are so far from coming up to 
or answering our notions and desires of happiness, or good, 
that they are really no more than what they are commonly 
called, somewhat to pass away the time; i. e. somewhat which 
serves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to, 
this our internal poverty and want ; if they serve only, or 
chiefly, to suspend, instead of satisfying our conceptions and 
desires of happiness ; if the want remains, and we have found 
out little more than barely the means of making it less sen- 
sible ; then are we still to seek for somewhat to be an ade- 
quate supply to it. It is plain that there is a capacity in the 
nature of man, which neither riches, nor honours, nor sensual 
gratifications, nor any thing in this world can perfectly fill 
up, or satisfy: there is a deeper and more essential want, 
than any of these things can be the supply of. Yet surely 
there is a possibility of somewhat, which may fill up ail our 
capacities of happiness ; somewhat, in which our souls may 
find rest ; somewhat, which may be to us that satisfactory 
good we are inquiring after. But it cannot be any thing 



152 



Upon the Love of God. 



SERM. XIV. 



which is valuable only as it tends to some further end. Those 
therefore who have got this world so much into their hearts, 
as not to be able to consider happiness as consisting in any 
thing but property and possessions, which are only valuable 
as the means to somewhat else, cannot have the least glimpse 
of the subject before us ; which is the end, not the means ; 
the thing itself, not somewhat in order to it. But if you can 
lay aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of hap- 
piness, as consisting in such possessions ; and fix in your 
thoughts, that it really can consist in nothing but in a faculty's 
having its proper object ; you will clearly see, that in the 
coolest way of consideration, without either the heat of fan- 
ciful enthusiasm, or the warmth of real devotion, nothing is 
more certain, than that an infinite Being may himself be, if 
he pleases, the supply to all the capacities of our nature. All 
the common enjoyments of life are from the faculties he hath 
endued us with, and the objects he hath made suitable to 
them. He may himself be to us infinitely more than all 
these : he may be to us all that we want. As our under- 
standing can contemplate itself, and our affections be exer- 
cised upon themselves by reflection, so may each be employed 
in the same manner upon any other mind : and since the 
supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all things, is the 
highest possible object" to himself, he may be an adequate 
supply to all the faculties of our souls ; a subject to our un- 
derstanding, and an object to our affections. 

Consider then : when we shall have put off this mortal 
body, when we shall be divested of sensual appetites, and 
those possessions which are now the means of gratification 
shall be of no avail ; when this restless scene of business and 
vain pleasures, which now diverts us from ourselves, shall be 
all over ; we, our proper self, shall still remain : we shall still 
continue the same creatures we are, with wants to be supplied, 
and capacities of happiness. We must have faculties of per- 
ception, though not sensitive ones ; and pleasure or uneasi- 
ness from our perceptions, as now we have. 

There are certain ideas, which we express by the words, 
order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest removed from 
any thing sensual. Now what is there in those intellectual 
images, forms, or ideas, which begets that approbation, love, 
delight, and even rapture, which is seen in some persons' 
faces upon having those objects present to their minds ? — * 
" Mere enthusiasm !" — Be it what it will : there are objects, 



SERM. XIV. 



Upon the Love of God. 



153 



works of nature and of art, which all mankind have delight 
from, quite distinct from their affording gratification to sen- 
sual appetites ; and from quite another view of them, than 
as beino- for their interest and further advantage. The 
faculties from which we are capable of these pleasures, and 
the pleasures themselves, are as natural, and as much to be 
accounted for, as any sensual appetite whatever, and the plea- 
sure from its gratification. Words to be sure are wanting 
upon this subject : to say, that every thing of grace and 
beauty, throughout the whole of nature, every thing excellent 
and amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the whole 
creation, meet in the Author and Cause of all things ; this 
is an inadequate, and perhaps improper way of speaking of 
the divine nature : but it is manifest that absolute rectitude, 
the perfection of being, must be in all senses, and in every 
respect, the highest object to the mind. 

In this world it is only the effects of wisdom, and power, 
and greatness, which we discern : it is not impossible, that 
hereafter the qualities themselves in the supreme Being 
may be the immediate object of contemplation. What amaz- 
ing wonders are opened to view by late improvements ! What 
an object is the universe to a creature, if there be a creature 
who can comprehend its system ! But it must be an infinitely 
higher exercise of the understanding, to view the scheme of 
it in that mind, which projected it, before its foundations 
were laid. And surely we have meaning to the words, when 
we speak of going further ; and viewing, not only this sys- 
tem in his mind, but the wisdom and intelligence itself from 
whence it proceeded. The same may be said of power. 
But since wisdom and power are not God, he is a wise, a 
powerful Being ; the divine nature may therefore be a fur- 
ther object to the understanding. It is nothing to observe 
that our senses gives us but an imperfect knowledge of things: 
effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give 
us but imperfect notions of wisdom and power ; much less 
of his Being, in whom they reside. I am not speaking of 
any fanciful notion of seeing all things in God ; but only 
representing to you, how much an higher object to the 
understanding an infinite Being himself is, than the things 
which he has made : and this is no more than saying, that 
the Creator is superior to the works of his hands. 

This may be illustrated by a low example. Suppose a 
machine, the sight of which would raise, and discoveries in 



154 



Upon the Love of God. 



SERM. XIV. 



its contrivance gratify, oar curiosity : the real delight, in this 
case, would arise from its being the effect of skill and con- 
trivance. This skill in the mind of the artificer would be an 
higher object, if we had any senses or ways to discern it. 
For, observe, the contemplation of that principle, faculty, or 
power which produced any effect, must be an higher exer- 
cise of the understanding, than the contemplation of the effect 
itself. The cause must be an higher object to the mind than 
the effect. 

But whoever considers distinctly what the light of know- 
ledge is, will see reason to be satisfied that it cannot be the 
chief good of man : all this, as it is applicable, so it was 
mentioned with regard to the attribute of goodness. I say, 
goodness. Our being and all our enjoyments are the effects 
of it : just men bear its resemblance : but how little do we 
know of the original, of what it is in itself? Recall what was 
before observed concerning the affection to moral charac- 
ters ; which, in how low a degree soever, yet is plainly natu- 
ral to man, and the most excellent part of his nature : sup- 
pose this improved, as it may be improved, to any degree what- 
ever, in the spirits of just men made perfect ; and then sup- 
pose that they had a real view of that righteousness, which is 
an everlasting righteousness ; of the conformity of the divine 
will to the law of truth, in which the moral attributes of God 
consist ; of that goodness in the sovereign Mind, which gave 
birth to the universe : add, what will be true of all good men 
hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in what they 
are contemplating ; suppose them able to say, This God is 
our God for ever and ever: would they be any longer to seek 
for what was their chief happiness, their final good ? Could 
the utmost stretch of their capacities look further? Would 
not infinite perfect goodness be their very end, the last end 
and object of their affections ; beyond which they could nei- 
ther have, nor desire ; beyond which they could not form a 
wish or thought? 

Consider wherein that presence of a friend consists, which 
has often so strong an effect, as wholly to possess the mind, 
and entirely suspend all other affections and regards ; and 
which itself affords the highest satisfaction and enjoyment. 
He is within reach of the senses. Now, as our capacities of 
perception improve, we shall have, perhaps by some faculty 
entirely new, a perception of God's presence with us in a 
nearer and stricter way ; since it is certain he is more inti- 



SERM. XIV. 



Upon the Love of God. 



155 



mately present with us than any thing else can be. Proof 
of the existence and presence of any being is quite different 
from the immediate perception, the consciousness of it. 
What then will be the joy of heart, which his presence, and 
the light of his countenance, who is the life of the universe, 
will inspire good men with, when they shall have a sensa- 
tion, that he is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in 
him ; when they shall feel his influence to cheer and enliven 
and support their frame, in a manner of which we have now no 
conception ? He will be in a literal sense their strength and 
their portion for ever. 

When we speak of things so much above our comprehen- 
sion, as the employment and happiness of a future state, 
doubtless it behoves us to speak with ail modesty and distrust 
of ourselves. But the scripture represents the happiness of 
that state under the notions of seeing God, seeing him as he 
is, knowing as we are known, and seeing face to face. These 
words are not general or undetermined, but express a parti- 
cular determinate happiness. And I will be bold to say, that 
nothing can account for, or come up to these expressions, 
but only this, that God himself will be an object to our facul- 
ties, that he himself will be our happiness ; as distinguished 
from the enjoyments of the present state, which seem to arise, 
not immediately from him, but from the objects he has adapted 
to give us delight. 

To conclude : Let us suppose a person tired with care and 
sorrow and the repetition of vain delights which fill up the 
round of life ; sensible that every thing here below in its best 
estate is altogether vanity. Suppose him to feel that defi- 
ciency of human nature, before taken notice of ; and to be 
convinced that God alone was the adequate supply to it. 
What could be more applicable to a good man in this state 
of mind ; or better express his present wants and distant 
hopes, his passage through this world as a progress towards 
a state of perfection, than the following passages in the devo- 
tions of the royal prophet ? They are plainly in an higher and 
more proper sense applicable to this, than they could be to 
any thing else. I have seen an end of all perfection. Whom 
have 1 in heaven hut thee? And there is none upon earth that 
I desire in comparison of thee. My flesh and my heart fail- 
eth : hut God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for 
ever. Like as the hart desiixth the ivater -brooks, so longeth 
my soul after thee, O God. My soul is athirst for God. yea, 



156 Upon the Ignorance of Man. serm. xv. 

even for the living God : when shall I come to appear before him? 
How excellent is thy lovingkindness, O God! and the children 
of men shall put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. 
They shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of thy house : and 
thou shalt give them drink of thy pleasures, as out of the river. 
For with thee is the well of life : and in thy light shall we see 
light. Blessed is the man whom thou choosest, and receivest 
unto thee : he shall dwell in thy court, and shall be satisfied 
with the pleasures of thy house, even of thy holy temple. 
Blessed is the people, Lord, that can rejoice in thee : they 
shall ivalk int he light of thy countenance. Their delight shall 
be daily in thy name, and in thy righteousness shall they make 
their boast. For thou art th e glory of their strength : and in 
thy loving kindness they shall be exalted. As for me, I will 
behold thy presence in righteousness : and when I awake up 
after thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it. Thou shalt shew 
me the path of life ; in thy presence is the fulness of joy, and 
at thy right hand there is pleasure for evermore. 

SERMON XV. 

UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 

When I applied mine heart to know wisdom, and to see the business that is done 
upon the earth : then I beheld all the work of God, that a man cannot find 
out the work that is done under the sun : because though a man labour to seek 
it out, yet he shall not find it ; yea further, though a wise man think to know 
it, yet shall he not be able to find it. — Eccles. viii. 16, 17. 

The writings of Solomon are very much taken up with reflec- 
tions upon human nature and human life; to which he hath 
added, in this book, reflections upon the constitution of 
things. And it is not improbable, that the little satisfaction 
and the great difficulties he met with in his researches into 
the general constitution of nature, might be the occasion of 
his confining himself, so much as he hath done, to life and 
conduct. However, upon that joint review he expresses 
great ignorance of the works of God, and the method of his 
providence in the government of the world ; great labour and 
weariness in the search and observation he had employed 
himself about; and great disappointment, pain, and even 
vexation of mind, upon that which he had remarked of the 
appearances of things, and of what was going forward upon 
this earth. This whole review and inspection, and the result 



SERM. XV. 



Upon the Ignorance of Man. 



157 



of it, sorrow, perplexity, a sense of his necessary ignorance, 
suggests various reflections to his mind. But, notwithstand- 
ing all this ignorance and dissatisfaction, there is somewhat 
upon which he assuredly rests and depends; somewhat, 
which is the conclusion of the whole matter, and the only 
concern of man. Following this his method and train of 
reflection, let us consider, 

I. The assertion of the text, the ignorance of man ; that 
the wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend the ways 
and works of God : and then, 

II. What are the just consequences of this observation and 
knowledge of our own ignorance, and the reflections which 
it leads us to. 

I. The wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend the 
works of God, the methods and designs of his providence in 
the creation and government of the world. 

Creation is absolutely and entirely out of our depth, and 
beyond the extent of our utmost reach. And yet it is as 
certain that God made the world, as it is certain that effects 
must have a cause. It is indeed in general no more than ef- 
fects, that the most knowing are acquainted with : for as to 
causes, they are as entirely in the dark as the most ignorant. 
What are the laws by which matter acts upon matter, but cer- 
tain effects ; which some, having observed to be frequently 
repeated, have reduced to general rules ? The real nature and 
essence of beings likewise is what we are altogether ignorant 
of. All these things are so entirely out of our reach, that 
we have not the least glimpse of them. And we know little 
more of ourselves, than we do of the world about us : how 
we were made, how our being is continued and preserved, 
what the faculties of our minds are, and upon what the power 
of exercising them depends. I am fearfully and wonderfully 
made: marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth 
right well. Our own nature, and the objects we are sur- 
rounded with, serve to raise our curiosity ; but we are quite 
out of a condition of satisfying it Every secret which is dis- 
closed, every discovery which is made, every new effect which 
is brought to view, serves to convince us of numberless more 
which remain concealed, and which we had before no sus- 
picion of. And what if we were acquainted with the whole 
creation, in the same way and as thoroughly as we are with 
any single object in it? What would all this natural knowledge 
amount to ? It must be a low curiosity indeed which such 



158 Upon the Ignorance of Alan, serm. xv. 

superficial knowledge could satisfy. On the contrary, would 
it not serve to convince us of our ignorance still ; and to raise 
our desire of knowing the nature of things themselves, the 
author, the cause, and the end of them? 

As to the government of the world : though from consi- 
deration of the final causes which come within our know- 
ledge ; of characters, personal merit and demerit ; of the fa- 
vour and disapprobation, which respectively are due and be- 
long to the righteous and the wicked, and which therefore 
must necessarily be in a mind which sees things as they really 
are ; though, I say, from hence we may know somewhat con- 
cerning the designs of Providence in the government of the 
world, enough to enforce upon us religion and the practice 
of virtue : yet, since the monarchy of the universe is a domi- 
nion unlimited in extent, and everlasting in duration ; the 
general system of it must necessarily be quite beyond our 
comprehension. And, since there appears such a subordi- 
nation and reference of the several parts to each other, as to 
constitute it properly one administration or government ; we 
cannot have a thorough knowledge of any part, without 
knowing the whole. This surely should convince us, that 
we are much less competent judges of the very small part 
which comes under our notice in this world, than we are apt 
to imagine. No heart can think upon these things worthily : 
and who is able to conceive his way ? It is a tempest which no 
man can see : for the most part of his works are hid. Who can 
declare the works of his justice? for his covenant is afar off, 
and the trial of all things is in the end : i. e. The dealings of 
God with the children of men are not yet completed, and can- 
not be judged of by that part which is before us. So that 
a man cannot say, This is worse than that : for in time they 
shall be well approved. Thy faithfulness, O Lord, reacheth 
unto the clouds: thy righteousness standeth like the strong 
mountains : thy judgments are like the great deep. He hath 
made every thing beautiful in his time : also he hath set the 
world in their heart ; so that no man can find out the work that 
God maketh from the beginning to the end. And thus St. 
Paul concludes a long argument upon the various dispensa- 
tions of Providence : O the depth of the riches, both of the 
wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are his 
judgments, and his ways past finding out! For who hath 
known the mind of the Lord? 

Thus the scheme of Providence, the ways and works of 



s e r m . xv. Upon th e Ignorance of Man . 



159 



God, are too vast, of too large extent for our capacities. There 
is, as I may speak, such an expense of power, and wisdom, 
and goodness, in the formation and government of the world, 
as is too much for us to take in, or comprehend. Power, and 
wisdom, and goodness, are manifest to us in all those works 
of God, which come within our view : but there are likewise 
infinite stores of each poured forth throughout the immensity 
of the creation ; no part of which can be thoroughly under- 
stood, without taking in its reference and respect to the whole : 
and this is what we have not faculties for. 

And as the works of God, and his scheme of goverment, 
are above our capacities thoroughly to comprehend : so there 
possibly may be reasons which originally made it fit that 
many things should be concealed from us, which we have 
perhaps natural capacities of understanding ; many things 
concerning the designs, methods, and ends of divine Provi- 
dence in the government of the world. There is no manner 
of absurdity in supposing a veil on purpose drawn over some 
scenes of infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, the sight of 
which might some way or other strike us too strongly ; or 
that better ends are designed and served by their being con- 
cealed, than could be by their being exposed to our knowledge. 
The Almighty may cast clouds and darkness round about 
him, for reasons and purposes of which we have not the least 
glimpse or conception. 

However, it is surely reasonable, and what might have been 
expected, that creatures in some stage of their being, suppose 
in the infancy of it, should be placed in a state of discipline 
and improvement, where their patience and submission is to 
be tried by afflictions, where temptations are to be resisted, 
and difficulties gone through in the discharge of their duty. 
Now if the greatest pleasures and pains of the present life 
may be overcome and suspended, as they manifestly may, 
by hope and fear, and other passions and affections ; then the 
evidence of religion, and the sense of the consequences of vir- 
tue and vice, might have been such, as entirely in all cases 
to prevail over those afflictions, difficulties, and tempta- 
tions ; prevail over them so, as to render them absolutely 
none at all. But the very notion itself now mentioned, of a 
state of discipline and improvement, necessarily excludes such 
sensible evidence and conviction of religion, and of the conse- 
quences of virtue and vice. Religion consists in submission 
and resignation to the divine will. Our condition in this 



160 



Upon the Ignorance of Man. 



serm. xv. 



world is a school of exercise for this temper : aad our igno- 
rance, the shallowness of our reason, the temptations, difficul- 
ties, afflictions, which we are exposed to, all equally contri- 
bute to make it so. The general observation may be carried 
on ; and whoever will attend to the thing will plainly see, that 
less sensible evidence, with less difficulty in practice, is the 
same, as more sensible evidence, with greater difficulty in prac- 
tice. Therefore difficulties in speculation as much come into 
the notion of a state of discipline, as difficulties in practice : 
and so the same reason or account is to be given of both. Thus, 
though it is indeed absurd to talk of the greater merit of assent, 
upon little or no evidence, than upon demonstration ; yet the 
strict discharge of our duty, with less sensible evidence, does 
imply in it a better character, than the same diligence in the 
discharge of it upon more sensible evidence. This fully ac- 
counts for and explains that assertion of our Saviour, Blessed 
are they that have not seen, and yet have believed;* have become 
Christians and obeyed the gospel, upon less sensible evidence, 
than that which Thomas, to whom he is speaking, insisted upon. 

But after all, the same account is to be given, why we 
were placed in these circumstances of ignorance, as why 
nature has not furnished us with wings; namely, that we 
were designed to be inhabitants of this earth. I am afraid 
we think too highly of ourselves; of our rank in the creation, 
and of what is due to us. What sphere of action, what bu- 
siness is assigned to man, that he has not capacities and 
knowledge fully equal to? It is manifest he has reason, and 
knowledge, and faculties superior to the business of the pre- 
sent world : faculties which appear superfluous, if we do not 
take in the respect which they have to somewhat further, and 
beyond it. If to acquire knowledge were our proper end, 
we should indeed be but poorly provided : but if somewhat 
else be our business and duty, we may, notwithstanding our 
ignorance, be well enough furnished for it; and the obser- 
vation of our ignorance may be of assistance to us in the dis- 
charge of it. 

II. Let us then consider, what are the consequences of this 
knowledge and observation of our own ignorance, and the 
reflection it leads us to. 

First, We may learn from it, with what temper of mind a 
man ought to inquire into the subject of religion; namely, 
with expectation of finding difficulties, and with a disposition 

* John xx. 29. 



serm. xv. Upon the Ignorance of Man, 161 

to take up and rest satisfied with any evidence whatever, 
which is real. 

He should beforehand expect things mysterious, and such 
as he will not be able thoroughly to comprehend, or go to 
the bottom of. To expect a distinct comprehensive view of 
I the whole subject, clear of difficulties and objections, is to 
forget our nature and condition; neither of which admit of 
such knowledge, with respect to any science whatever. And 
to inquire with this expectation, is not to inquire as a man, 
but as one of another order of creatures. 

Due sense of the general ignorance of man would also be- 
get in us a disposition to take up and rest satisfied with any 
evidence whatever, which is real. I mention this as the con- 
trary to a disposition, of which there are not wanting instances, 
to find fault with and reject evidence, because it is not such 
as was desired. If a man were to walk by twilight, must he 
not follow his eyes as much as if it were broad day and clear 
sunshine? Or if he were obliged to take a journey by night, 
would he noigive heed to any light shining in the darkness, till 
the day should break and the day-star arise? It would not 
be altogether unnatural for him to reflect how much better it 
were to have day-light; he might perhaps have great curio* 
sity to see the country round about him; he might lament 
that the darkness concealed many extended prospects from 
his eyes, and wish for the sun to draw away the veil : but how 
ridiculous would it be to reject with scorn and disdain the 
guidance and direction which that lesser light might afford 
him, because it was not the sun itself! If the make and con- 
stitution of man, the circumstances he is placed in, or the 
reason of things affords the least hint or intimation, that 
virtue is the law he is born under; scepticism itself should 
lead him to the most strict and inviolable practice of it ; that 
he may not make the dreadful experiment, of leaving the 
course of life marked out for him by nature, whatever that 
nature be, and entering paths of his own, of which he can 
know neither the dangers nor the end. For though no danger 
be seen, yet darkness, ignorance, and blindness are no man- 
ner of security. 

Secondly, Our ignorance is the proper answer to many 
things, which are called objections against religion; particu- 
larly, to those which arise from the appearances of evil and 
irregularity in the constitution of nature and the government 
of the world. In all other cases it is thought necessary to be 

BUTLER. L 



162 



Upon the Ignorance of Man. 



SERM. xv. 



thoroughly acquainted with the whole of a scheme, even one 
of so narrow a compass as those which are formed by men, 
in order to judge of the goodness or badness of it: and the 
most slight and superficial view of any human contrivance 
comes abundantly nearer to a thorough knowledge of it, than 
that part, which we know of the government of the world, 
does to the general scheme and system of it ; to the whole set 
of laws by which it is governed. From our ignorance of the 
constitution of things, and the scheme of Providence in the 
government of the world ; from the reference the several parts 
have to each other, and to the whole ; and from our not being 
able to see the end and the whole; it follows, that however 
perfect things are, they must even necessarily appear to us 
otherwise less perfect than they are.* 

Thirdly, Since the constitution of nature, and the methods 
and designs of Providence in the government of the world, 

* Suppose some very complicated piece of work, some .system or constitu- 
tion, formed for some general end, to which each of the parts had a re- 
ference. The perfection or justness of this work or constitution would 
consist in the reference and respect, which the several parts have to the 
general design. This reference of parts to the general design may- 
be infinitely various, both in degree and kind. Thus one part may 
only contribute and be subservient to another; this to a third; and 
so on through a long series, the last part of which alone may con- 
tribute immediately and directly to the general design. Or a part may 
have this distant reference to the general design, and may also con- 
tribute immediately to it. For instance : if the general design or end, 
for which the complicated frame of nature was brought into being, is hap- 
piness; whatever affords present satisfaction, and likewise tends to carry 
on the course of things, hath this double respect to the general design. 
Now suppose a spectator of that work or constitution was in a great 
measure ignorant of such various reference to the general end, whatever 
that end be; and that, upon a very slight and partial view which he had 
of the work, several things appeared to his eye disproportionate and 
wrong; others, just and beautiful: what would he gather from these ap- 
perances? He would immediately conclude there was a probability, if he 
could see the whole reference of the parts appearing wrong to the general 
design, that this would destroy the appearance of wrongness and dispro- 
portion : but there is no probability, that the reference would destroy the 
particular right appearances, though that reference might shew the things 
already appearing just, to be so likewise in a higher degree or another 
manner. There is a probability, that the right appearances were intended: 
there is no probability, that the wrong appearances were. We cannot sus- 
pect irregularity and disorder to be designed. The pillars of a building 
appear beautiful ; but their being likewise its support does not destroy that 
beauty: there still remains a reason to believe that the architect intended 
the beautiful appearance, after we have found out the reference, support, 
It would be reasonable for a man of himself to think thus, upon the first 
piece of architecture he ever saw. 



serm. xv. Upon the Ignorance of Man. 163 

are above our comprehension, we should acquiesce in, and 
rest satisfied with, our ignorance, turn our thoughts from that 
which is above and beyond us, and apply ourselves to that 
which is level to our capacities, and which is our real busi- 
ness and concern. Knowledge is not our proper happiness. 
Whoever will in the least attend to the thing will see, that it 
is the gaining, not the having of it, which is the entertain- 
ment of the mind. Indeed, if the proper happiness of man 
consisted in knowledge considered as a possession or treasure, 
men who are possessed of the largest share would have a very 
ill time of it; as they would be infinitely more sensible than 
others of their poverty in this respect. Thus he ivho increases 
knowledge would eminently increase sorrow. Men of deep re- 
search and curious inquiry should just be put in mind, not to 
mistake what they are doing. If their discoveries serve the 
cause of virtue and religion, in the way of proof, motive to 
practice, or assistance in it ; or if they tend to render life 
less unhappy, and promote its satisfactions; then they are 
most usefully employed: but bringing things to light, alone 
and of itself, is of no manner of use, any otherwise than as 
entertainment or diversion. Neither is this at all amiss, if it 
does not take up the time which should be employed in better 
work. But it is evident that there is another mark set up 
for us to aim at ; another end appointed us to direct our lives 
to : another end, which the most knowing may fail of, and 
the most ignorant arrive at. The secret things belong unto 
the Lord our God; but those things which are revealed belong 
unto us, and to our children for ever, that we may do all the 
words of this law. Which reflection of Moses, put in general 
terms, is, that the only knowledge, which is of any avail to us, 
is that which teaches us our duty, or assists us in the dis- 
charge of it. The economy of the universe, the course of 
nature, almighty power exerted in the creation and govern- 
ment of the world, is out of our reach. What would be the 
consequence, if w r e could really get an insight into these 
things, is very uncertain; whether it would assist us in, or 
divert us from, what we have to do in this present state. If 
then there be a sphere of knowledge, of contemplation and 
employment, level to our capacities, and of the utmost im- 
portance to us ; we ought surely to apply ourselves with all 
i diligence to this our proper business, and esteem ever}^ thing 
else nothing, nothing as to us, in comparison of it. Thus 
Job, discoursing of natural knowledge, how much it is above 

L 2 



164 



Upon the Ignorance of Man, 



SERM. xv. 



us, and of wisdom in general, says, God understandeth the 
way thereof and he knoweth the place thereof. And unto 
man he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, 
and to depart from evil is wider standing. Other orders of 
creatures may perhaps be let into the secret counsels of hea- 
ven ; and have the designs and methods of Providence, in the 
creation and government of the world, communicated to them : 
but this does not belong to our rank or condition. The fear 
of the Lord, and to depart from evil, is the only wisdom 
which man should aspire after, as his work and business. 
The same is said, and with the same connexion and con- 
text, in the conclusion of the book of Ecclesiastes. Our 
ignorance, and the little we can know of other things, 
affords a reason why we should not perplex ourselves about 
them ; but no way invalidates that which is the conclusion 
of the whole matter. Fear God, and keep his command- 
ments; for this is the whole concern of man. So that So- 
crates was not the first who endeavoured to draw men off 
from labouring after, and laying stress upon other knowledge, 
in comparison of that which related to morals. Our province 
is virtue and religion, life and manners ; the science of im- 
proving the temper, and making the heart better. This is 
the field assigned us to cultivate : how much it has lain neg- 
lected is indeed astonishing. Virtue is demonstrably the 
happiness of man : it consists in good actions, proceeding 
from a good principle, temper, or heart. Overt-acts are en- 
tirely in our power. What remains is, that we learn to keep 
our heart ; to govern and regulate our passions, mind, affec- 
tions : that so we may be free from the impotencies of fear, 
envy, malice, covetousness, ambition ; that we may be clear 
of these, considered as vices seated in the heart, considered 
as constituting a general wrong temper ; from which general 
wrong frame of mind, all the mistaken pursuits, and far the 
greatest part of the unbappiness of life, proceed. He, who 
should find out one rule to assist us in this work, would de- 
serve infinitely better of mankind, than all the improvers of 
other knowledge put together. 

Lastly, Let us adore that infinite wisdom and power and 
goodness, which is above our comprehension. To ivhom 
hath the root of wisdom been revealed? Or who hath known 
her wise counsels? There is one wise and greatly to be feared; 
the Lord sitting upon his throne. He created her, and 
saw her, and numbered her, and poiwed her out upon all 



serm. xv. Upon the Ignorance of Man, 165 

his ivo?*ks. If it be thought a considerable thing to be ac- 
quainted with a few, a very few, of the effects of infinite power 
and wisdom ; the situation, bigness, and revolution of some 
of the heavenly bodies ; what sentiments should our minds 
be rilled with concerning Him, who appointed to each its 
place and measure and sphere of motion, all which are kept 
with the most uniform constancy ! Who stretched out the 
heavens, and telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them 
all by their names. Who laid the foundations of the earth, 
who comprehendeth the dust of it in a measure, and weigheth 
the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance. And, when 
we have recounted all the appearances which come within 
our view, we must add, Lo, these are part of his ways : but 
how little a portion is heard of him I Canst thou by searching 
find out God f Canst thou find out the Almighty unto per- 
fection! It is as high as heaven ; what canst thou do? deeper 
than hell; ivhat canst thou know? 

The conclusion is, that in all lowliness of mind we set 
lightly by ourselves : that we form our temper to an implicit 
submission to the divine Majesty ; beget within ourselves an 
absolute resignation to all the methods of his providence, in 
his dealings with the children of men : that, in the deepest 
humility of our souls, we prostrate ourselves before him, and 
join in that celestial song ; Great and marvellous are thy 
works, Lord God Almighty ! just and true are thy ways, thou 
King of saints ! Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glo- 
rify thy name? 



SIX SERMONS 

PREACHED UPON 

PUBLIC OCCASIONS. 



SERMON E 

PREACHED BEFORE THE INCORPORATED SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAGA- 
TION OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS, AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY 
MEETING IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST. MARY-IE-BOW, ON FRIDAY, 
FEBRUARY 16, 1738-9. 

And this gospel of the kingdom shall he preached in all the world, for a 
witness unto all nations. — Matth. xxiv. 14. 

The general doctrine of religion, that all things are under 
the direction of one righteous Governor, having been esta- 
blished by repeated revelations in the first ages of the world, 
was left with the balk of mankind, to be honestly preserved 
pure and entire, or carelessly forgotten, or wilfully corrupted. 
And though reason, almost intuitively, bare witness to the 
truth of this moral system of nature, yet it soon appeared, that 
they did not like to retain God in their knowledge,* as to any 
purposes of real piety. Natural religion became gradually 
more and more darkened with superstition, little understood, 
less regarded in practice ; and the face of it scarce discernible 
at all, in the religious establishments of the most learned, 
polite nations. And how much soever could have been done 
towards the revival of it by the light of reason, yet this light 
could not have discovered, what so nearly concerned us, that 
important part in the scheme of this world, which regards a 
Mediator ; nor how far the settled constitution of its govern- 
ment admitted repentance to be accepted for remission of sins ; 
after the obscure intimations of these things, from tradition, 
were corrupted or forgotten. One people indeed had clearer 
notices of them, together with the genuine scheme of natural 
religion, preserved in the primitive and subsequent revela- 
tions committed to their trust; and were designed to be a 

* Rom. i. 28. 



A Sermon, Sec. 



167 



witness of God, and a providence to the nations around them : 
but this people also had corrupted themselves and their reli- 
gion to the highest degree, that was consistent with keeping 
up the form of it. 

In this state of things, when infinite Wisdom saw proper, 
the general doctrine of religion was authoritatively repub- 
lished in its purity ; and the particular dispensation of Pro- 
vidence, which this world is under, manifested to all men, 
even, the dispensation of the grace of God* towards us, as 
sinful, lost creatures, to be recovered by repentance through 
a Mediator; who was to make reconciliation for iniquity, and 
to bring in everlasting righteousness,^ and at length establish 
that new state of things foretold by the prophet Daniel, under 
the character of a kingdom, which the God of heaven would 
set up, and which should never be destroyed.^ This, including 
a more distinct account of the instituted means, whereby 
Christ the Mediator would gather together in one the children 
of God, that were scattered abroad, % and conduct them to the 
place he is gone to prepare for them;\ is the Gospel of the king- 
dom, which he here foretels, and elsewhere commands, should 
be preached in all the world, for a witness unto all nations. 
And it first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed 
unto us by them that heard him ; God also bearing them wit- 
ness, both with signs and wonders, and with divers miracles, 
and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to his own will :% by 
which means it was spread very widely among the nations 
of the world, and became a witness unto them. 

When thus much was accomplished, as there is a wonder- 
ful uniformity in the conduct of Providence, Christianity was 
left with Christians, to be transmitted down pure and genuine, 
or to be corrupted and sunk ; in like manner as the religion 
of nature had been before left with mankind in general. 
There was however this difference, that by an institution of 
external religion fitted for all men (consisting in a common 
form of Christian worship, together with a standing ministry 
of instruction and discipline), it pleased God to unite Chris- 
tians in communities or visible churches, and all along to 
preserve them, over a great part of the world ; and thus per- 
petuate a general publication of the gospel. For these com- 
munities, which together make up the catholic visible church, 
are, first, the repositories of the written oracles of God ; and, 



* Eph. iii. 2. f Dan. ix. 24. \ Dan. ii. 44. 

§ John xi. 52. J| John xiv. 2, 3. II Heb. ii. 3, 4. 



168 



A Sermon before the Society for 



in every age, have preserved and published them, in every 
country, where the profession of Christianity has obtained. 
Hence it has come to pass, and it is a thing very much to 
be observed in the appointment of Providence, that even such 
of these communities, as, in a long succession of years, have 
corrupted Christianity the most, have yet continually carried, 
together with their corruptions, the confutation of them : for 
they have every where preserved the pure original standard 
of it, the Scripture, to which recourse might have been had, 
both by the deceivers and the deceived, in every successive 
age. Secondly, any particular church, in whatever place 
established, is like a city that is set on a hill, which cannot be 
hid* inviting all who pass by, to enter into it. All persons, 
to whom any notices of it come, have, in Scripture language, 
the kingdom of God come nigh unto them. They are re- 
minded of that religion, which natural conscience attests the 
truth of: and they may, if they will, be instructed in it more 
distinctly, and likewise in the gracious means, whereby sin- 
ful creatures may obtain eternal life ; that chief and final 
good, which all men, in proportion to their understanding 
and integrity, even in all ages and countries of the heathen 
world, were ever in pursuit of. And, lastly, out of these 
churches have all along gone forth persons, who have 
preached the gospel in remote places, with greater or less 
good effect : for the establishment of any profession of 
Christianity, however corrupt, I call a good effect, whilst 
accompanied with a continued publication of the Scripture, 
notwithstanding it may for some time lie quite neglected. 

From these things, it may be worth observing by the way, 
appears the weakness of all pleas for neglecting the public 
service of the church. For though a man prays with as 
much devotion and less interruption at home, and reads 
better sermons there, yet that will by no means excuse the 
neglect of his appointed part in keeping up the profession 
of Christianity amongst mankind. And this neglect, were it 
universal, must be the dissolution of the whole visible church, 
L e. of all Christian communities ; and so must prevent those 
good purposes, which were intended to be answered by them, 
and which they have, all along, answered over the world. 
For we see that by their means the event foretold in the text, 
which began in the preaching of Christ and the apostles, has 
been carried on, more or less ever since, and is still carrying 

* Matt. v. 14. 



the Propagation of the Gospel, 169 

on ; these being the providential means of its progress. And 
it is, I suppose, the completion of this event, which St. John 
had a representation of, under the figure of an angel flying in 
the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach 
unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and 
kindred, and tongue, and people* 

Our Lord adds in the text, that this should be for a witness 
unto them ; for an evidence of their duty, and an admonition 
to perform it. But what would be the effect, or success of the 
general preaching of the gospel, is not here mentioned. And 
therefore the prophecy of the text is not parallel to those 
others in Scripture, which seem to foretel the glorious esta- 
blishment of Christianity in the last days : nor does it appear 
that they are coincident ; otherwise than as the former of 
these events must be supposed preparatory to the latter. Nay, 
it is not said here, that God willeth all men should be saved, 
and come unto the knowledge of the truth :f though this is 
the language of Scripture elsewhere. The text declares no 
more, than that it was the appointment of God, in his righte- 
ous government over the world, that the gospel of the kingdom 
should be preached for a witness unto it. 

The visible constitution and course of nature, the moral 
law written in our hearts, the positive institutions of religion, 
and even any memorial of it, are all spoken of in Scripture 
under this, or the like denomination : so are the prophets, 
apostles, and our Lord himself. They are all witnesses, for 
the most part unregarded witnesses, in behalf of God, to 
mankind. They inform us of his being and providence, and 
of the particular dispensation of religion which we are under ; 
and continually remind us of them. And they are equally 
witnesses of these things, whether we regard them or not. 
Thus after a declaration, that Ezekiel should be sent with a 
divine message to the children of Israel, it is added, and they, 
whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear (for they 
are a rebellious house ), yet shall know that there hath been a 
prophet among them.% And our Lord directs the seventy 
disciples, upon their departure from any city, which refused 
to receive them, to declare, Notwithstanding, be ye sure of 
this, that the kingdom of God is come nigh unto you.^ The 
thing intended in both these passages is that which is ex- 
pressed in the text by the word witness. And all of them 
together evidently suggest thus much, that the purposes of 
* Rev. xiv. 6. f 1 Tim. ii. 4, t Ezek. ii. 5. 7. § Luke x. 11. 



170 



A Sermon before the Society for 



Providence are carried on, by the preaching of the gospel 
to those who reject it, as well as to those who embrace it. 
It is indeed true, God willeth that all men should be saved : 
yet, from the unalterable constitution of his government, the 
salvation of every man cannot but depend upon his beha- 
viour, and therefore cannot but depend upon himself ; and is 
necessarily his own concern, in a sense, in which it cannot 
be another's. All this the Scripture declares, in a manner the 
most forcible and alarming : Can a man be profitable unto 
God, as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself 7 Is it 
any pleasure to the Almighty, that thou art righteous ? or is 
it gain to Him, that thou makest thy way perfect ?* If thou 
be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself: but if thou scornest, 
thou alone shalt bear it."\ He that heareth, let him hear ; 
and he that forbeareth, let him forbear.^ And again, He 
that hath ears to hear, let him hear : but if any man be 
ignorant, i. e. wilfully, let him be ignorant.^ To the same 
purpose are those awful words of the angel, in the person of 
Him, to whom all judgment is committed :[| He that is unjust, 
let him be mjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be 
filthy still : and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: 
and he that is holy, let him be holy still. And behold, I come 
quickly ; and my reward is with me, to give every man accord- 
ing as his work shall be.% The righteous government of 
the world must be carried on; and, of necessity, men shall 
remain the subjects of it, by being examples of its mercy, or 
of its justice. Life and death are set before them, and whether 
they like shall be given them** They are to make their 
choice, and abide by it : but which soever their choice be, 
the gospel is equally a witness to them ; and the purposes of 
Providence are answered by this witness of the gospel. 

From the foregoing view of things we should be reminded, 
that the same reasons which make it our duty to instruct 
the ignorant in the relation, which the light of nature shews 
they stand in to God their maker, and in the obligations of 
obedience, resignation, and love to him, which arise out of 
that relation; make it our duty likewise to instruct them in 
all those other relations, which revelation informs us of, and 
in the obligations of duty, which arise out of them. And 
the reasons for instructing men in both these are of the very 

* Job xxii. 2, 3. t Prov. ix. 12. 

X Ezek. iii. 27. § 1 Cqr. xiv. 38. || John v. 22. 

IF Rev. xxii. 11, 12. ** Ecclus. xv. 17. 



the Propagation of the Gospel. 171 

same kind, as for communicating any useful knowledge 
whatever. God, if he had so pleased, could indeed mira- 
culously have revealed every religious truth which concerns 
mankind, to every individual man ; and so he could have 
every common truth ; and thus have superseded all use of 
human teaching in either. Yet he has not done this : but 
has appointed, that men should be instructed by the assist- 
ance of their fellow-creatures in both. Further : though all 
knowledge from reason is as really from God, as revelation 
is : yet this last is a distinguished favour to us, and naturally 
strikes us with the greatest awe, and carries in it an assur- 
ance, that those things which we are informed of by it are 
of the utmost importance to us to be informed of. Reve- 
lation therefore, as it demands to be received with a regard 
and reverence peculair to itself ; so it lays us under obliga- 
tions, of a like peculiar sort, to communicate the light of it. 
Further still : it being an indispensable law of the gospel, 
that Christians should unite in religious communities, and 
these being intended for repositories * of the written oracles 
of God, for standing memorials of religion to unthinking 
men, and for the propagation of it in the world ; Christianity 
is very particularly to be considered as a trust, deposited 
with us in behalf of others, in behalf of mankind, as well as 
for our own instruction. No one has a right to be called a 
Christian, who doth not do somewhat in his station, towards 
the discharge of this trust ; who doth not, for instance, assist 
in keeping up the profession of Christianity where he lives. 
And it is an obligation but little more remote, to assist in 
doing it in our factories abroad; and in the colonies to 
which we are related, by their being peopled from our own 
mother-country, and subjects, indeed very necessary ones, to 
the same government with ourselves : and nearer yet is the 
obligation upon such persons in particular, as have the inter- 
course of an advantageous commerce with them. 

Of these our colonies, the slaves ought to be considered 
as inferior members, and therefore to be treated as members 
of them ; and not merely as cattle or goods, the property of 
their masters. Nor can the highest property, possible to be 
acquired in these servants, cancel the obligation to take care 
of their religious instruction. Despicable as they may 
appear in our eyes, they are the creatures of God, and of the 
race of mankind, for whom Christ died : and it is inex- 

* P. 167. 



172 A Sermon before the Society for 

cusable to keep them in ignorance of the end for which they 
were made, and the means whereby they may become par- 
takers of the general redemption. On the contrary, if the 
necessity of the case requires, that they may be treated with 
the very utmost rigour, that humanity will at all permit, as 
they certainly are ; and, for our advantage, made as miser- 
able as they well can be in the present world ; this surely 
heightens our obligation to put them into as advantageous a 
situation as we are able, with regard to another. 

The like charity we owe to the natives ; owe to them in a 
much stricter sense than we are apt to consider, were it only 
from neighbourhood, and our having gotten possessions in 
their country. For incidental circumstances of this kind 
appropriate all the general obligations of charity to particular 
persons ; and make such and such instances of it the duty 
of one man rather than another. We are most strictly bound 
to consider these poor uninformed creatures, as being in all 
respects, of one family with ourselves, the family of man- 
kind ; and instruct them in our common salvation :* that they 
may not pass through this stage of their being like brute 
beasts ; but be put into a capacity of moral improvements, 
how low soever they must remain as to others, and so into a 
capacity of qualifying themselves for a higher state of life 
hereafter. 

All our affairs should be carried on in the fear of God, in 
subserviency to his honour, and the good of mankind. And 
thus navigation and commerce should be consecrated to the 
service of religion, by being made the means of propagating 
it in every country, with which we have any intercourse. 
And the more widely we endeavour to spread its light and 
influence, as the forementioned circumstances, and others of 
a like kind, open and direct our way, the more faithful shall 
we be judged in the discharge of that trust, t which is com- 
mitted to us as Christians, when our Lord shall require an 
account of it. 

And it may be some encouragement to cheerful persever- 
ance in these endeavours to observe, not only that they are 
our duty, but also that they seem the means of carrying on a 
great scheme of Providence, which shall certainly be accom- 
plished. For the everlasting gospel shall be preached to every 
nation : % and the kingdoms of this world shall become the king- 
doms of our Lord, and of his Christ.^ 

* Jude 3. t P. 171. X Rev. xiv. 6. § Rev. xi. 15. 



the Propagation of the Gospel. 



173 



However, we ought not to be discouraged in this good 
work, though its future success were less clearly foretold; 
and though its effect now in reforming mankind appeared to 
be as little as our adversaries pretend. They indeed, and 
perhaps some others, seem to require more than either expe- 
rience or Scripture give ground to hope for, in the present 
course of the world. But the bare establishment of Chris- 
tianity in any place, even the external form and profession 
of it, is a very important and valuable effect. It is a se- 
rious call upon men to attend to the natural and the re- 
vealed doctrine of religion. It is a standing publication of 
the gospel, and renders it a witness to them : and by this 
means the purposes of Providence are carrying on, with re- 
gard to remote ages, as well as to the present. Cast thy bread 
upon the waters ; for thou shalt fold it after many days. In 
the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine 
hand ; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper , either this 
or that, or whether they both shall be alike good* We can 
look but a very little way into the connexions and conse- 
quences of things : our duty is to spread the incorruptible seed 
as widely as we can, and leave it to God to give the increase.^ 
Yet thus much we may be almost assured of, that the gospel, 
wherever it is planted, will have its genuine effect upon some 
few ; upon more perhaps than are taken notice of in the hurry 
of the world. There are, at least, a few persons in every 
country and successive age, scattered up and down, and 
mixed among the rest of mankind ; who, not being corrupted 
past amendment, but having within them the principles of 
recovery, will be brought to a moral and religious sense of 
things, by the establishment of Christianity where they live; 
and then will be influenced by the peculiar doctrines of it, in 
proportion to the integrity of their minds, and to the clear- 
ness, purity, and evidence, with which it is offered them. 
Of these our Lord speaks in the parable of the sower, as un- 
derstanding the word, and bearing fruit, and bringing forth \, 
some an hundred fold, some sixty, some thirty.^ One might 
add, that these persons, in proportion to their influence, do 
at present better the state of things : better it even in the 
civil sense, by giving some check to that avowed profligate- 
ness, which is a contradiction to all order and government; 
and, if not checked, must be the subversion of it. 

These important purposes, which are certainly to be ex- 
* Eccles xi. 1. 6. +1 Cor.iii.6. \ Matt. xiii. 23. 



174 



A Sermon before the Society for 



pected from the good work before us, may serve to shew, 
how little weight there is in that objection against it, from 
the want of those miraculous assistances, with which the first 
preachers of Christianity proved its truth. The plain state 
of the case is, that the gospel, though it be not in the same 
degree a witness to all, who have it made known to them ; yet 
in some degree is so to all. Miracles to the spectators of 
them are intuitive proofs of its truth : but the bare preaching 
of it is a serious admonition to all who hear it, to attend to 
the notices which God has given of himself by the light of 
nature ; and, if Christianity be preached with its proper evi- 
dence, to submit to its peculiar discipline and laws ; if not, 
to inquire honestly after its evidence, in proportion to their 
capacities. And there are persons of small capacities for 
inquiry and examination, who yet are wrought upon by it, to 
deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and live soberly, righte- 
ously, and godly in this present world* in expectation of a 
future judgment by Jesus Christ. Nor can any Christian, 
who understands his religion, object, that these persons are 
Christians without evidence : for he cannot be ignorant who 
has declared, that if any man will do his will, he shall know of 
the doctrine, ivhether it be of God.']' And, since the whole 
end of Christianity is to influence the heart and actions, were 
an unbeliever to object in that manner, he should be asked, 
w r hether he would think it to the purpose to object against 
persons of like capacities, that they are prudent without evi- 
dence, when, as is often the case, they are observed to manage 
their worldly affairs with discretion. 

The design before us being therefore in general unexcep- 
tionably good, it were much to be wished, that serious men 
of all denominations would join in it. And let me add, that 
the foregoing view of things affords distinct reasons why 
they should. For, first, by so doing, they assist in a work 
of the most useful importance, that of spreading over the 
world the Scripture itself, as a divine revelation : and it can- 
not be spread under this character, for a continuance, in any 
country, unless Christian churches be supported there ; but 
will always more or less, so long as such churches subsist : 
and therefore their subsistence ought to be provided for. In 
the next place, they should remember, that if Christianity is 
to be propagated at all, which they acknowledge it should, it 
must be in some particular form of profession. And though 
* Titus ii. 12, 13. f John vii. 17. 



the Propagation of the Gospel. 



175 



they think ours liable to objections, yet it is possible they 
themselves may be mistaken : and whether they are or no, 
the very nature of society requires some compliance with 
others. And whilst, together with our particular form of 
Christianity, the confessed standard of Christian religion, the 
Scripture, is spread ; and especially whilst every one is freely 
allowed to study it, and worship God according to his con- 
science : the evident tendency is, that genuine Christia- 
nity will be understood and prevail. Upon the whole there- 
fore, these persons would do well to consider, how far they 
can with reason satisfy themselves in neglecting what is cer- 
tainly right, on account of what is doubtful, whether it be 
wrong; and when the right is of so much greater conse- 
quence one way, than the supposed wrong can be to the other. 

To conclude : Atheistical immorality and profaneness, 
surely, is not better in itself, nor less contrary to the design of 
revelation, than superstition. Nor is superstition the distin- 
guishing vice of the present age, either at home or abroad, But 
if our colonies abroad are left without a public religion, and 
the means of instruction, what can be expected, but that, from 
living in a continued forgetfulness of God, they will at length 
cease to believe in him ; and so sink into stupid atheism? And 
there is too apparent danger of the like horrible depravity 
at home, without the like excuse for it. Indeed amongst crea- 
tures naturally formed for religion, yet so much under the 
powers of imagination, so apt to deceive themselves, and so 
liable to be deceived by others, as men are ; superstition is an 
evil, which can never be out of sight. But even against this, 
true religion is a great security ; and the only one. True reli- 
gion takes up that place in the mind, which superstition 
would usurp, and so leaves little room for it ; and likewise 
lays us under the strongest obligations to oppose it. On the 
contrary, the danger of superstition cannot but be increased 
by the prevalence of irreligion : and by its general preva- 
lence, the evil will be unavoidable. For the common peo- 
ple, wanting a religion, will of course take up with almost 
any superstition, which is thrown in their way : and, in pro- 
cess of time, amidst the infinite vicissitudes of the political 
world, the leaders of parties will certainly be able to serve 
themselves of that superstition, whatever it be, which is get- 
ting ground : and will not fail to carry it on to the utmost 
length their occasions require. The general nature of the 
thing shews this ; and history and fact confirm it. But what 



176 A Sermon before the Society for 

brings the observation home to ourselves is, that the great 
superstition of which this nation, in particular, has reason to 
be afraid, is imminent ; and the ways in which we may, very 
supposably, be overwhelmed by it, obvious. It is therefore 
wonderful, those people who seem to think there is but one 
evil in life, that of superstition, should not see, that atheism 
and profaneness must be the introduction of it. So that in 
every view of things, and upon all accounts, irreligion is at 
present our chief danger. Now the several religious associ- 
ations among us, in which many good men have of late united, 
appear to be providentially adapted to this present state of 
the world. And as all good men are equally concerned in 
promoting the end of them ; to do it more effectually, they 
ought to unite in promoting it : which yet is scarce practi- 
cable upon any new models, and quite impossible upon such 
as every one would think unexceptionable. They ought 
therefore to come into those already formed to their hands ; 
and even take advantage of any occasion of union, to add 
mutual force to each other's endeavours in furthering their 
common end; however they may differ as to the best means, 
or any thing else subordinate to it. Indeed there are well- 
disposed persons, who much want to be admonished, how 
dangerous a thing it is, to discountenance what is good, be- 
cause it is not better ; and hinder what they approve, by 
raising prejudices against some under-part of it. Nor can 
they assist in rectifying what they think capable of amend- 
ment, in the manner of carrying on these designs, unless 
they will join in the designs themselves ; which they must 
acknowledge to be good and necessary ones. For what can 
be called good and necessary by Christians, if it be not so, 
to support Christianity where it must otherwise sink, and 
propagate it where it must otherwise be unknown; to restrain 
abandoned, barefaced vice, by making useful examples, at 
least of shame, perhaps of repentance ; and to take care of 
the education of such children, as otherwise must be, even 
educated in wickedness, and trained up to destruction? Yet 
good men separately can do nothing, proportionable to what 
is wanting, in any of these ways ; but their common, united 
endeavours may do a great deal in all of them. 

And besides the particular purposes, which these several 
religious associations serve, the more general ones, which 
they all serve, ought not to be passed over. Every thing of 
this kind is, in some degree, a safeguard to religion ; an 



A Sermon, §c. 



177 



obstacle, more or less, in the way of those who want to have 
it extirpated out of the world. Such societies also contribute 
more especially towards keeping up the face of Christianity 
among ourselves ; and by their obtaining here, the gospel is 
rendered more and more a witness to us. 

And if it were duly attended to, and had its genuine 
influence upon our minds, there would be no need of per- 
suasions to impart the blessing : nor would the means of 
doing it be wanting. Indeed the present income of this 
Society, which depends upon voluntary contributions, with 
the most frugal management of it, can in no wise sufficiently 
answer the bare purposes of our charter : but the nation, or 
even this opulent city itself, has it in its power to do so very 
much more, that I fear the mention of it may be thought too 
severe a reproof, since so little is done. But if the gospel 
had its proper influence upon the Christian world in general, 
as it is the centre of trade and seat of learning, a very few 
ages, in all probability, would settle Christianity in every 
country, without miraculous assistances. For scarce any 
thing else, I am persuaded, would be wanting to effect this, 
but laying it before men in its divine simplicity, together with 
an exemplification of it in the lives of Christian nations. The 
unlearned and unbelievers, falling down on their faces, would 
worship God, and report that God is in us of a truth.* 



SERMON II. 

PREACHED BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD MAYOR, THE COURT OF 
ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL 
HOSPITALS OF THE CITY OF LONDON, AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST. 
BRIDGET, ON MONDAY INEASTER-WEEK, 1740. 

The rich and poor meet together : the Lord is the maker of 
them all, — Prov. xxii. 2. 

The constitution of things being such, that the labour of one 
man, or the united labour of several, is sufficient to procure 
more necessaries than he or they stand in need of, which it 
may be supposed was, in some degree, the ease, even in the 
first ages ; this immediately gave room for riches to arise in 
the world, and for men's acquiring them by honest means ; 
by diligence, frugality, and prudent management. Thus some 
would very soon acquire greater plenty of necessaries than 
they had occasion for ; and others by contrary means, or by 
* 1 Cor. Xiv. 24, 25 
BUTLER. M 



178 A Sermon preached before 

cross accidents, would be in want of them : and he who 
should supply their wants would have the property in a pro- 
portionable labour of their hands ; which he would scarce 
fail to make use of, instead of his own, or perhaps together 
with them, to provide future necessaries in greater plenty. 
Riches then were first bestowed upon the world, as they are 
still continued in it, by the blessing of God upon the industry 
of men, in the use of their understanding and strength. 
Riches themselves have always this source ; though the pos- 
session of them is conveyed to particular persons by different 
channels. Yet still, the hand of the diligent maketh rich* 
and, other circumstances being equal, in proportion to its 
diligence. 

But to return to the first rich man ; whom we left in pos- 
session of dependants, and plenty of necessaries for himself t 
and them. A family would not be long in this state, before 
conveniences, somewhat ornamental, and for entertainment, 
would be wanted, looked for, and found out. And, by 
degrees, these secondary wants, and inventions for the supply 
of them, the fruits of leisure and ease, came to employ much 
of men's time and labour. Hence a new species of riches 
came into the world, consisting of things which it might 
have done well enough without, yet thought desirable, as 
affording pleasure to the imagination or the senses. And 
these went on increasing, till, at length, the superfluities of 
life took in a vastly larger compass of things than the neces- 
saries of it. Thus luxury made its inroad, and all the nume- 
rous train of evils its attendants ; of which poverty, as bad a 
one as we may account it, is far from being the worst. Indeed 
the hands of the generality must be employed : and a very 
few of them would now be sufficient to provide the world 
with necessaries : and therefore the rest of them must be 
employed about what may be called superfluities; which 
could not be, if these superfluities were not made use of. 
Yet the desire of such things, insensibly, becomes immode- 
rate, and the use of them, almost of course, degenerates into 
luxury; which, in every age, has been the dissipation of 
riches, and, in every sense, the ruin of those who were pos- 
sessed of them : and therefore cannot be too much guarded 
against by all opulent cities. And as men sink into luxury, 
as much from fashion, as direct inclination* the richer sort 
together may easily restrain this vice, in almost what degree 

* Prov. x.4. 



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179 



they please : and a few of the chief of them may contribute 
a great deal towards the restraining it. 

It is to be observed further concerning the progress of 
riches, that had they continued to consist only in the posses- 
sion of the things themselves, which were necessary, and of the 
things themselves, which were, upon their own account, other- 
wise desirable ; this, in several respects, must have greatly 
embarrassed trade and commerce ; and have set bounds to 
the increase of riches in all hands, as well as have confined 
them in the hands of a few. But, in process of time, it was 
agreed to substitute somewhat more lasting and portable, 
which should pass every where, in commerce, for real natural 
riches ; as sounds had before, in language, been substituted 
for thoughts. And this general agreement (by what means so- 
ever it became general), that money should answer alignings, 
together with some other improvements, gave full scope for 
riches to increase in the hands of particular persons, and like- 
wise to circulate into more hands. Now this, though it was 
not the first origin of covetousness, yet it gives greater scope, 
encouragement, and temptation to covetousness than it had be- 
fore. And there is moreover the appearance, that this artificial 
kind of riches, money, has begot an artificial kind of passion 
for them : both which follies well-disposed persons must, by 
all means, endeavour to keep clear of. For indeed the love of 
riches is the root of all evil:* though riches themselves may 
be made instrumental in promoting every thing that is good. 

The improvement of trade and commerce has made another 
change, just hinted at, and I think a very happy one, in the 
state of the world, as it has enlarged the middle rank of people : 
many of which are, in good measure, free from the vices of 
the highest and the lowest part of mankind. Now these 
persons must remember, that whether, in common language, 
they do or do not pass under the denomination of rich, yet 
they really are so, with regard to the indigent and necessitous : 
and that considering the great numbers which make up this 
middle rank among us, and how much they mix with the poor, 
they are able to contribute very largely to their relief, and 
have in all respects a very great influence over them. 

You have heard now the origin and progress of what this 
great city so much abounds with, riches ; as far as I had oc- 
casion to speak of these things. For this brief account of 
them has been laid before you for the sake of the good admo- 

* Tim. vi. 10. 
M 2 



180 



A Sermon preached before 



nitions it afforded. Nor will the admonitions be thought 
foreign to the charities, which we are endeavouring to pro- 
mote. For these must necessarily be less, and the occasions 
for them greater, in proportion as industry should abate, or 
luxury increase. And the temper of covetousness is, we all 
know, directly contrary to that of charity, and eats out the 
very heart of it. Then, lastly, there are good sort of people 
who really want to be told, that they are included in the 
admonitions to be given to the rich, though they do see others 
richer than themselves. 

The ranks of rich and poor being thus formed, they meet 
together; they continue to make up one society. The mutual 
want, which they still have of each other, still unites them 
inseparably. But they meet upon a foot of great inequality. 
For, as Solomon expresses it in brief, and with much force, 
the rich ruleth over the poor * And this their general inter- 
course, with the superiority on one hand, and dependence on 
the other, are in no sort accidental, but arise necessarily from 
a settled providential disposition of things, for their common 
good. Here then is a real, standing relation between the 
rich and the poor. And the former must take care to per- 
form the duties belonging to their part of it, for these chiefly 
the present occasion leads me to speak to, from regard to 
Him, who placed them in that relation to the poor, from 
whence those duties arise, and who is the Maker of them all. 

What these duties are, will easily be seen, and the obliga- 
tions to them strongly enforced, by a little further reflection 
upon both these ranks, and the natural situation which they 
are in with respect to each other. 

The lower rank of mankind go on, for the most part, in 
some tract of living, into which they got by direction or ex- 
ample ; and to this their understanding and discourse, as 
well as labour, are greatly confined. Their opinions of per- 
sons and things they take upon trust. Their behaviour has 
very little in it original or of home-growth ; very little which 
may not be traced up to the influence of others, and less 
which is not capable of being changed by such influence. 
Then as God has made plentiful provision for all his crea- 
tures, the wants of all, even of the poorest, might be supplied, 
so far as it is fit they should, by a proper distribution of it. 
This being the condition of the lower part of mankind, con- 
sider now what influence, as well as power, their superiors 

* Prov. xxii. 7. 



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181 



must, from the nature of the case, have over them. For they 
can instil instruction, and recommend it in a peculiar mariner 
by their example, and enforce it still further with favour and 
discouragement of various kinds. And experience shews, 
that they do direct and change the course of the world as 
they please. Not only the civil welfare, but the morals and 
religion of their fellow-creatures, greatly depend upon them ; 
much more indeed than they would, if the common people 
were not greatly wanting to their duty. All this is evidently 
true of superiors in general; superiors in riches, authority, 
and understanding, taken together. And need I say how 
much of this whole superiority goes along with riches ? It 
1 is no small part of it, which arises out of riches themselves. 
In all governments, particularly in our own, a good share of 
civil authority accompanies them. Superior . natural under- 
standing may, or may not : but when it does not, yet riches 
afford great opportunities for improvement, and may com- 
mand information ; which things together are equivalent to 
natural superiority of understanding. 

But I am sure you will not think I have been reminding 
you of these advantages of riches in order to beget in you 
that complacency and trust in them, which you find the Scrip- 
ture every where warning you against. No : the importance 
of riches, this their power and influence, affords the most 
serious admonition in the world to those who are possessed 
of them. For it shews, how very blamable even their care- 
lessness in the use of that power and influence must be : 
since it must be blamable in a degree proportionate to the 
importance of what they are thus careless about. 

But it is not only true, that the rich have the power of 
doing a great deal of good, and must be highly blamable for 
neglecting to do it : but it is moreover true, that this power 
is given them by way of trust, in order to their keeping down 
that vice and misery, with which the lower people would 
otherwise be quite overrun. For without instruction and 
good influence they, of course, grow rude and vicious, and 
reduce themselves to the utmost distresses ; often to very ter- 
rible ones without deserving much blame. And to these must 
be added their unavoidable distresses, which yet admit of 
relief. This their case plainly requires, that some natural 
provision should be made for it : as the case of children does, 
who, if left to their own ways, would almost infallibly ruin 
themselves/ Accordingly Providence has made provision 



1 82 A Sermon preached before 

for this case of the poor : not only by forming their minds 
peculiarly apt to be influenced by their superiors, and giving 
those superiors abilities to direct and relieve them ; but also 
by putting the latter under the care and protection of the i 
former : for this is plainly done, by means of that intercourse 
of various kinds between them, which, in the natural course 
of things, is unavoidably necessary. In the primitive ages j 
of the world, the manner in which the rich and the poor met 
together, was in families. Rich men had the poor for their 
servants : not only a few for the offices about their persons, 
and for the care of what we now call domestic affairs ; but 
great numbers also for the keeping of their cattle, the tillage 
of their fields, for working up their wool into furniture and 
vestments of necessary use as well as ornament, and for pre- 
paring them those many things at home, which now pass 
through a multitude of unknown poor hands successively, 
and are by them prepared, at a distance, for the use of the 
rich. The instruction of these large families, and the over- 
sight of their morals and religion, plainly belonged to the 
heads of them. And that obvious humanity, which every 
one feels, must have induced them to be kind to all whom 
they found under their roof, in sickness and old age. In this 
state of the world, the relation between the rich and the poor 
could not but be universally seen and acknowledged. Now 
indeed it is less in sight, by means of artificial methods of 
carrying on business, which yet are not blamable. But the 
relation still subsists, and the obligations arising out of it ; 
and cannot but remain the same, whilst the rich have the 
same want of the poor, and make the same use of them, 
though not so immediately under their eye ; and whilst the 
instruction, and manners, and good or bad state of the poor, 
really depend in so great a degree upon the rich, as all these 
things evidently do ; partly in their capacity of magistrates, 
but very much also in their private capacity. In short, he 
who has distributed men into these different ranks, and at the 
same time united them into one society, in such sort as men 
are united, has, by this constitution of things, formally put 
the poor under the superintendency and patronage of the 
rich. The rich then are charged, by natural providence, as 
much as by revealed appointment, with the care of the poor: 
not to maintain them idle; which, were it possible they could 
be so maintained, would produce greater mischiefs than those 
which charity is to prevent ; but to take care, that they main- 



the Lord Mayor, 1 83 

tain themselves by their labour, or in case they cannot, then 
to relieve them ; to restrain their vices, and form their minds 
to virtue and religion. This is a trust, yet it is not a burden, 
but a privilege, annexed to riches. And if every one dis- 
charged his share of the trust faithfully, whatever be his 
i share of it, the world would be quite another place from 
what it is. But that cannot be, till covetousness, debauchery, 
and every vice, be unknown among the rich. Then, and not 
before, will the manners of the poor be, in all respects, what 
they ought to be, and their distresses find the full relief, 
which they ought to find. And, as far as things of this sort 
can be calculated, in proportion to the right behaviour of 
persons whom God has placed in the former of these ranks, 
will be the right behaviour and good condition of those who 
are cast into the latter. Every one of ability then is to be 
persuaded to do somewhat towards this, keeping up a sense 
of virtue and religion among the poor, and relieving their 
wants ; each as much as he can be persuaded to. Since the 
generality will not part with their vices, it were greatly to be 
i wished, they would bethink themselves, and do what good 
j! they are able, so far only as is consistent with them. A 
vicious rich man cannot pass through life without doing an 
incredible deal of mischief, were it only by his example and 
influence ; besides neglecting the most important obligations, 
which arise from his superior fortune. Yet still, the fewer 
of them he neglects, and the less mischief he does, the less 
share of the vices and miseries of his inferiors will lie at his 
door : the less will be his guilt and punishment. But con- 
scientious persons of this rank must revolve again and again 
in their minds, how great the trust is, which God has annexed 
to it. They must each of them consider impartially, what is 
his own particular share of that trust ; which is determined 
by his situation, character, and fortune together : and then 
set himself to be as useful as he can in those particular ways, 
which he finds thus marked out for him. This is exactly the 
precept of St. Peter ; As every man hath received the gift, 
even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of 
the manifold grace of God* And as rich men, by a right 
direction of their greater capacity, may entitle themselves to 
a greater reward ; so by a wrong direction of it, or even by 
great negligence, they may become partakers of other mens 
sins,^ and chargeable with other men's miseries. For if there 
*lPet. iv. 10. f ITim. v. 22. 



184 A Sermon preached before 

be at all any measures of proportion, any sort of regularity 
and order in the administration of things, it is self-evident, 
that unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be 
required: and to whom much is committed, of him shall more 
be demanded* 

But still it is to be remembered, that every man's behaviour 
is his own concern, for every one must give account of his 
own works ; and that the lower people are very greatly to 
blame in yielding to any ill influence, particularly following 
the ill example of their superiors ; though these are more to 
blame in setting them such an example. For, as our Lord 
declares, in the words immediately preceding those just men- 
tioned, that servant which knew his Lord's will, and prepared 
not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten 
with many stripes. But he that knew not, and did commit 
things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes.^ 
Vice is itself of ill-desert, and therefore shall be punished in 
all ; though its ill-desert is greater or less, and so shall be its 
punishment, in proportion to men's knowledge of God and 
religion : but it is in the most literal sense true, that he who 
knew not his Lord's will, and committed things worthy of 
stripes, shall be beaten, though with few stripes. For it 
being the discernment, that such and such actions are evil, 
which renders them vicious in him who does them, ignorance 
of other things, though it may lessen, yet it cannot remit the 
punishment of such actions in a just administration, because 
it cannot destroy the guilt of them : much less can corrupt 
deference and regard to the example of superiors in matters 
of plain duty and sin have this effect. Indeed the lowest 
people know very well, that such ill example affords no rea- 
son why they should do ill ; but they hope it will be an ex- 
cuse for them, and thus deceive themselves to their ruin : 
which is a forcible reason why their superiors should not lay 
this snare in their way. 

All this approves itself to our natural understanding ; 
though it is by means of Christianity chiefly, that it is thus 
enforced upon our consciences. And Christianity, as it is 
more than a dispensation of goodness, in the general notion 
of goodness, even a dispensation of forgiveness, of mercy 
and favour on God's part, does in a peculiar manner heighten 
our obligations to charity among ourselves. Ln this was 
manifested the love of God towards us, — that he sent his Son 
*Lukexii. 48. f Luke xii. 47, 48. 



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185 



to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, 
we ought also to love one another * With what unanswerable 
force is that question of our Lord to be applied to every 
branch of this duty, Shouldest not thou also have compassion on 
thy fellow- servant, even as I had pity on theeff And can there 
be a stronger inducement to endeavour the reformation of 
the world, and bringing it to a sense of virtue and religion, 
than the assurance given us, that he which converteth a sinner 
from the error of his way, and, in like manner, he also who 
preventeth a person's being corrupted, by taking care of his 
education, shall save a soul from death, and hide a multitude 
of sins 7 .\ 

These things lead us to the following observations on the 
several charities, which are the occasion of these annual so- 
lemnities. 

1. What we have to bestow in charity being a trust, we 
cannot discharge it faithfully, without taking some care to 
satisfy ourselves in some degree, that we bestow it upon the 
proper objects of charity. One hears persons complaining, 
that it is difficult to distinguish who are such ; yet often 
seeming to forget, that this is a reason for using their best 
endeavours to do it. And others make a custom of giving to 
idle vagabonds : a kind of charity, very improperly so called, 
which one really wonders people can allow themselves in ; 
merely to be relieved from importunity, or at best to gratify a 
false good-nature. For they cannot but know, that it is, at 
least, very doubtful, whether what they thus give will not im- 
mediately be spent in riot and debauchery. Or suppose it be 
not, yet still they know, they do a great deal of certain mis- 
chief, by encouraging this shameful trade of begging in the 
streets, and all the disorders which accompany it. But the 
charities towards which I now ask your assistance, as they are 
always open, so every one may contribute to them with full 
assurance, that he bestows upon proper objects, and in general 
that he does vastly more good, than by equal sums given 
separately to particular persons. For that these charities 
really have these advantages, has been fully made out, by 
some who have gone before me in the duty I am discharging, 
and by the reports annually published at this time. 

Here the Report annexed ivas read. 

Let us thank God for these charities, in behalf of the poor; 
and also on our own behalf, as they give us such clear op- 

* 1 John iv. 9, 10, 11. f Matt, xviii. 33. X James v. 20. 



186 



A Sermon preached before 



portunities of doing good. Indeed without them, vice and 
misery, of which there is still so much, would abound so 
much more in this populous city, as to render it scarce an 
habitable place. 

2. Amongst the peculiar advantages of public charities 
above private ones, is also to be mentioned, that they are ex- 
amples of great influence. They serve for perpetual memo- 
rials of what I have been observing, of the relation which 
subsists between the rich and the poor, and the duties which 
arise out of it. They are standing admonitions to all within 
sight or hearing of them, to go and do likewise* Educating 
poor children in virtue and religion, relieving the sick, and 
correcting offenders in order to their amendment, are, in 
themselves, some of the very best of good works. These 
charities would indeed be the glory of your city, though their 
influence were confined to it. But important as they are in 
themselves, their importance still increases, by their being 
examples to the rest of the nation ; which, in process of time, 
of course copies after the metropolis. It has indeed already 
imitated every one of these charities ; for of late, the most 
difficult and expensive of them, hospitals for the sick and 
wounded, have been established ; some within your sight, 
others in remote parts of the kingdom. You will give me 
leave to mention particularly thatf in its second trading city; 
which is conducted with such disinterested fidelity and pru- 
dence, as I dare venture to compare with yours. Again, 
there are particular persons very blameably unactive and 
careless, yet not without good dispositions, who, by these 
charities, are reminded of theirduty, and provoked to love 
and to good works.^ And let me add, though one is sorry 
any should want so slight a reason for contributing to the 
most excellent designs, yet if any are supposed to do so 

* Luke x. 37. 

f As it is of very particular benefit to those, who ought always to be 
looked upon with particular favour by us, I mean our seamen ; so like- 
wise it is of very extensive benefit to the large tracts, of country west and 
north of it. Then the medicinal waters near the city render it a still more 
proper situation for an infirmary. And so likewise does its neighbourhood 
to the Bath hospital. For it may well be supposed, that some poor objects 
will be sent thither in hopes of relief from the Bath waters, whose case may 
afterwards be found to require the assistance of physic or surgery : and on 
the other hand, that some maybe sent to our infirmary for help from those 
arts, whose case may be found to require the Bath waters. So that if I am 
not greatly partial, the Bristol infirmary as much deserves encouragement 
as any charitable foundation in the kingdom. \ Heb. x. 24. 



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187 



merely of course, because they see others do it, still they help 
to support these monuments of charity, which are a continued 
admonition to the rich, and relief to the poor : and herein 
all good men rejoice, as St. Paul speaks of himself in a like 
case, yea, and will rejoice* 

3. As all human schemes admit of improvement, all pub- 
lic charities, methinks, should be considered as standing 
open to proposals for it ; that the whole plan of them, in all 
its parts, may be brought to as great perfection as is possi- 
ble. Now it should seem, that employing some share of the 
children's time in easy labour, suitable to their age, which is 
done in some of our charity-schools, might be done in most 
others of them, with very good effect ; as it is in all those of 
a neighbouring kingdom. Then as the only purposes of 
punishments less than capital are to reform the offenders 
themselves, and warn the innocent by their example, every 
thing which should contribute to make this kind of punish- 
ments answer these purposes better than it does, would be a 
great improvement. And whether it be not a thing practi- 
cable, and what would contribute somewhat towards it, to 
exclude utterly all sorts of revel-mirth from places where of- 
fenders are confined, to separate the young from the old, and 
force them both, in solitude, with labour and low diet, to 
make the experiment, how far their natural strength of mind 
can support them under guilt and shame and poverty; this 
may deserve consideration. Then again, some religious in- 
struction particularly adapted to their condition would as 
properly accompany those punishments which are intended 
to reform, as it does capital ones. God forbid that I should 
be understood to discourage the provision which is made for 
it in this latter case : I heartily wish it were better than it 
is ; especially since it may well be supposed, as the state of 
religion is at present among us, that some condemned male- 
factors may have never had the doctrine of the gospel en- 
forced upon their consciences. But since it must be ac- 
knowledged of greater consequence, in a religious as well as 
civil respect, how persons live, than how they die; it cannot 
but be even more incumbent on us to endeavour, in all ways, 
to reclaim those offenders who are to return again into the 
world, than those who are to be removed out of it: and the 
only effectual means of reclaiming them, is to instil into them 
a principle of religion. If persons of authority and influence 

* Phil. i. 18. 



188 



A Sermon 'preached before 



would take things of this and a like kind under their consi- 
deration, they might perhaps still improve those charities ; 
which are already, I truly believe, under a better management 
than any other of so large a compass in the world. But, 

4. With regard to the two particular branches of them 
last mentioned, I would observe, that our laws and whole 
constitution, civil and ecclesiastical, go more upon supposi- 
tion of an equality amongst mankind, than the constitution 
and laws of other countries. Now this plainly requires that 
more particular regard should be had to the education of the 
lower people here, than in places, where they are born slaves 
of power, and to be made slaves of superstition. It is, I 
suppose, acknowledged, that they have greater liberty here, 
than they have any where else in the world. But unless care 
be taken for giving them some inward principle, to prevent 
their abusing this greater liberty which is their birthright, 
can we expect it will prove a blessing to them ? or will they 
not in all probability become more dissolute, or more wild 
and extravagant, whatever wrong turn they happen to take, 
than people of the same rank in other countries ? 

5. Let me again remind you of the additional reason, 
which persons of fortune have to take particular care of their 
whole behaviour, that it be in all respects good and exem- 
plary, upon account of the influence which it will have upon 
the manners of their inferiors. And pray observe how 
strictly this is connected with the occasion of our present 
meeting ; how much your good behaviour in private life will 
contribute to promote the good design of all these charities; 
and how much the contrary would tend to defeat it, and even 
to produce the evils which they are intended to prevent or 
to remedy. Whatever care betaken in the education of these 
poor children at school, there is always danger of their being 
corrupted, when they come from it. And this danger is 
greater, in proportion to the greater wickedness of the age 
they are to pass through. But if, upon their coming abroad 
into the world, they find the principles of virtue and religion 
recommended by the example of their superiors, and vice 
and irreligion really discountenanced, this will confirm them 
in the good principles in which they have been brought up, 
and give the best ground to hope they will never depart from 
them. And the like is to be said of offenders, who may have 
had a sense of virtue and religion wrought in them, under 
the discipline of labour and confinement. Again ; dissolute 



the Lord Mayor, 8$c. 189 

and debauched persons of fortune greatly increase the ge- 
neral corruption of manners ; and this is what increases want 
and misery of all kinds. So that they may contribute largely 
to any or all of these charities, and yet undo but a very small 
part of the mischief which they do, by their example, as well 
as in other ways. But still this mischief which they do, sup- 
pose by their example, is an additional reason why they 
should contribute to them; even injustice to particular per- 
sons, in whose ruin they may have an unknown share of 
guilt; or however in justice to society in general ; for which 
they will deserve commendation, how blamable soever they 
are for the other. And indeed amidst the dark prospect be- 
fore us, from that profligateness of manners, and scorn of re- 
ligion, which so generally abound, this good spirit of charity 
to the poor discovering itself in so great a degree, upon these 
occasions, and likewise in the late necessitous time, even 
amongst persons far from being blameless in other respects ; 
this cannot but afford hopes, that we are not given over by 
Providence, and also that they themselves will at length con- 
sider, and not go on contributing, by the example of their 
vices, to the introduction of that distress,which they so com- 
mend ably relieve by their liberality. 

To conclude : Let our charity towards men be exalted into 
piety towards God, from the serious consideration, that we 
are all his creatures; a consideration which enforces that 
duty upon our consciences, as we have any regard to him. 
This kind of adjuration, and a most solemn one it is, one often 
hears profaned by a very unworthy sort of people, when they 
ask relief for God's sake. But surely the principle itself, 
which contains in it everything great, and just, and good, is 
grievously forgotten among us. To relieve the poor for God's 
sake, is to do it in conformity to the order of nature, and to his 
will, and his example, who is the Author and Governor of it ; 
and in thankful remembrance, that all we have is from his 
bounty. It is to do it in his behalf, and as to him. For he that 
hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord : # and our Sa- 
viour has declared, that he will take as given to himself, what 
is given in a well-chosen charity. f Lastly, it is to do it 
under a sense of the account which will be required of what 
is committed to our trust, when the rich and poor, who meet 
here upon terms of so great inequality, shall meet hereafter 
upon a level, before him who is the Maker of them all, 
* Prov. xix. 17. f Matt. xxv. 40. 



190 



SERMON ill. 

PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-CHURCH 
OF WESTMINSTER, ON FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1740-41, BEING THE 
DAY APPOINTED TO BE OBSERVED AS THE DAY OF THE MARTYRDOM 
OF KING CHARLES I, 

And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the 
servants of God. — 1 Peter ii. 16. 

A history so full of important and interesting events as that 
which this day recalls annually to our thoughts, cannot but 
afford them very different subjects for their most serious and 
useful employment. But there seems none which it more 
naturally leads us to consider than that of hypocrisy, as it sets 
before us so many examples of it ; or which will yield us 
more practical instruction, as these examples so forcibly ad- 
monish us, not only to be upon our guard against the perni- 
cious effects of this vice in others, but also to watch over our 
own hearts, against every thing of the like kind in ourselves : 
for hypocrisy, in the moral and religious consideration of 
things, is of much larger extent than every one may imagine. 

In common language, which is formed upon the common 
intercourses amongst men, hypocrisy signifies little more 
than their pretending what they really do not mean, in order 
to delude one another. But in Scripture, which treats chiefly 
of our behaviour towards God and our own consciences, it 
signifies, not only the endeavour to delude our fellow-crea- 
tures, but likewise insincerity towards him, and towards our- 
selves. And therefore, according to the whole analogy of 
Scripture language, to use liberty as a cloak of maliciousness,* 

* The hypocrisy laid to the charge of the Pharisees and Sadducees, in 
Matt. xvi. at the beginning, and in Luke xii. 54. is determinately this, that 
their vicious passions blinded them so as to prevent their discerning the 
evidence of our Saviour's mission; though no more understanding was 
necessary to discern it, than what they had, and made use of in com- 
mon matters. Here they are called hypocrites merely upon account of 
their insincerity towards God and their own consciences, and not at 
all upon account of any insincerity towards men. This last indeed is 
included in that general hypocrisy, which, throughout the gospels, is 
represented as their distinguished character; but the former is as much 
included. For they were not men, who, without any belief at all of reli- 
gion, put on the appearance of it only in order to deceive the world : on 
the contrary, they believed their religion, and were zealous in it. But their 
religion, which they believed, and were zealous in, was in its nature hypo- 
critical : for it was the form, not the reality; it allowed them in immoral 



A Sermon, 8$c. 



191 



must be understood to mean, not only endeavouring to impose 
upon others, by indulging wayward passions, or carrying on 
indirect designs, under pretences of it ; but also excusing 
and palliating such things to ourselves ; serving ourselves of 
such pretences to quiet our own minds in any thing which 
is wrong. 

Liberty in the writings of the New Testament, for the most 
part, signifies, being delivered from the bondage of the cere- 
monial law ; or of sin and the devil, which St. Paul calls 
the glorious liberty of the children of God* This last is a 
progressive state i and the perfection of it, whether attainable 
in this world or not, consists in that 'perfect love,\ which St. 
John speaks of; and which, as it implies an entire coincidence 
of our wills with the will of God, must be a state of the most 
absolute freedom, in the most literal and proper sense. But 

practices ; and indeed was itself in some respects immoral, as they indulged 
their pride and uncharitableness under the notion of zeal for it. See Jer. 
ix. 6. Psalm Ixxviii. 36. Job iii. 19. and Matt. xv. 7 — 14. and xxiii. 13. 
16. 19. 24. 26. where hypocrite and blind are used promiscuously. Again, 
the Scripture speaks of the deceitfulness of sin ; and its deceiving those who 
are guilty of it : Heb. iii. 13. Eph. iv. 22. Rom. vii. 1 1. of men's acting as 
if they could deceive and mock God: Isa. xxix. 15. Acts v. 3. Gal. vi. 7. 
of their blinding their own eyes : Matt. iii. 15. Acts xxviii. 27. and deceiving 
themselves; which is quite a different thing from being deceived. 1 Cor. 
iii. 18. 1 John i. 8. Galatians vi. 3. James i. 22. 26. Many more coinci- 
dent passages might be mentioned : but I will add only one. In 2 Thess. ii. 
it is foretold, that by means of some force, some energy of delusion, men 
should believe the lie which is there treated of: this force of delusion is not 
any thing without them, but somewhat within them, which it is expressly 
said they should bring upon themselves, by not receiving the love of the 
truth, but having pleasure in unrighteousness. Answering to all this is that 
very remarkable passage of our Lord, Matt. vi. 22, 23. Luke xi. 34, 35. 
and that admonition repeated fourteen times in the New Testament ; He 
that hath ears to hear, let him hear. And the ground of this whole manner 
of considering things ; for it is not to be spoken of as only a peculiar kind 
of phraseology, but is a most accurate and strictly just manner of consi- 
dering characters and moral conduct ; the ground of it, I say, is, that when 
persons will not be influenced by such evidence in religion as they act 
upon in the daily course of life, or when their notions of religion (and I 
might add of virtue) are in any sort reconcileable with what is vicious, it is 
some faulty negligence or prejudice which thus deludes them; in very dif- 
ferent ways, perhaps, and very different degrees. But when any one is 
thus deluded through his own fault, in whatever way or degree it is, he 
deludes himself. And this is as properly hypocrisy towards himself, as 
deluding the world is hypocrisy towards the world : and he who is guilty 
of it acts as if he could deceive and mock God ; and therefore is an hypo- 
crite towards him, in as strict and literal a sense as the nature of the sub- 
ject will admit. 

* Rom. viii. 21. f 1 John iv. 18. 



192 A Sermon preached before the 

whatever St. Peter distinctly meant by this word, liberty, the 
text gives occasion to consider any kind of it, which is liable 
to the abuse he here warns us against. However, it appears 
that he meant to comprehend that liberty, were it more or 
less, which they to whom he was writing enjoyed under 
civil government : for of civil government he is speaking just 
before and afterwards : Submit yourselves to every ordinance 
of man for the Lord's sake: ivhether it be to the king, as su- 
preme; or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him. 
For so is the will of God, that with well-doing, of which duti- 
ful behaviour towards authority is a very material instance, 
ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men ;* as free, 
perhaps in distinction from the servile state, of which he 
speaks afterwards, and not using your liberty for a cloak of 
maliciousness,^ of any thing wrong, for so the word signifies; 
and therefore comprehends petulance, affection of popularity, 
with any other like frivolous turn of mind, as well as the more 
hateful and dangerous passions, such as malice, or ambition; 
for all of which liberty may equally be used as a cloak. The 
apostle adds, but as the servants of God: as free — -but as his 
servants, who requires dutiful submission to every ordinance 
of man, to magistracy ; and to whom we are accountable for 
our manner of using the liberty we enjoy under it ; as well 
as for all other parts of our behaviour. Not using your liberty 
as a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God. 
Here are three things offered to our consideration : 
First, A general supposition, that what is wrong cannot be 
avowed in its proper colours, but stands in need of some 
cloak to be thrown over it : Secondly, A particular one, that 
there is danger, some singular danger, of liberty's being made 
use of for this purpose : Lastly, An admonition not to make 
this ill use of our liberty, but to use it as the servants of God. i 

I. Here is a general supposition, that what is wrong can- 
not be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in need of I 
some cloak to be thrown over it. God has constituted our 
nature, and the nature of society, after such a manner, that, 
generally speaking, men cannot encourage or support them- ) 
selves in wickedness upon the foot of there being no diffe- 
rence between right and wrong, or by a direct avowal of 
wrong ; but by disguising it, and endeavouring to spread 
over it some colours of right. And they do this in every 
capacity and every respect, in which there is a right or a 
* 1 Pet. ii. 13—15. f Ver. 16. 



House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41. 



193 



wrong. They do it, not only as social creatures under civil 
government, but also as moral agents under the government 
of God ; in one case to make a proper figure in the world, 
and delude their fellow-creatures ; in the other to keep peace 
within themselves, and delude their own consciences. And 
the delusion in both cases being voluntary, is, in Scripture, 
called by one name, and spoken against in the same manner : 
though doubtless they are much more explicit with them- 
selves, and more distinctly conscious of what they are about, 
in one case than in the other. 

The fundamental laws of all governments are virtuous ones, 
prohibiting treachery, injustice, cruelty : and the law of repu- 
tation enforces those civil laws, by rendering these vices every 
where infamous, and the contrary virtues honourable and of 
good report. Thus far the constitution of society is visibly 
moral : and hence it is, that men cannot live in it without 
taking care to cover those vices when they have them, and 
make some profession of the opposite virtues, fidelity, justice, 
kind regard to others, when they have them not : but espe- 
cially is this necessary in order to disguise and colour over 
indirect purposes, which require the concurrence of several 
persons. 

Now all false pretences of this kind are to be called hypo- 
critical, as being contrary to simplicity ; though not always 
designed, properly speaking, to beget a false belief. For it 
is to be observed, that they are often made without any for- 
mal intention to have them believed, or to have it thought that 
there is any reality under these pretences. Many examples 
occur of verbal professions of fidelity, justice, public regards, 
in cases where there could be no imagination of their being 
believed. And what other account can be given of these 
merely verbal professions, but that they were thought the 
proper language for the public ear ; and made in business for 
the very same kind of reasons as civility is kept up in con- 
versation ? 

These false professions of virtue, which men have, in all 
ages, found it necessary to make their appearance with abroad, 
must have been originally taken up in order to deceive in 
the proper sense : then they became habitual, and often in- 
tended merely by way of form : yet often still, to serve their 
original purpose of deceiving. 

There is doubtless amongst mankind a great deal of this 
hypocrisy towards each other : but not so much as may some- 

BUTLER. N 



194 



A Sermon preached before the 



times be supposed. For part which has, at first sight, this j 
appearance, is in reality that other hypocrisy before men- j 
tioned ; that self-deceit, of which the Scripture so remarkably j 
takes notice. There are indeed persons who live without God 
in the world:* and some appear so hardened as to keep no \ 
measures with themselves. But as very ill men may have j 
a real and strong sense of virtue and religion, in proportion 
as this is the case with any, they cannot be easy within them- j 
selves but by deluding their cosciences. And though they 
should, in great measure, get over their religion, yet this will 
not do. For as long as they carry about with them any such 
sense of things, as makes them condemn what is wrong in 
others, they could not but condemn the same in themselves, : 
and dislike and be disgusted with their own character and 
conduct, if they would consider them distinctly, and in a full , 
light. But this sometimes they carelessly neglect to do, and 
sometimes carefully avoid doing. And as the integrity of the 
upright guides himfi guides even a man's judgment : so wick- 
edness may distort it to such a degree, as that he may call 
evil good, and good evil; put darkness for light, and light for 
darkness ;J and think wickedly, that God is such an one as 
himself \ Even the better sort of men are, in some degree, 
liable to disguise and palliate their failings to themselves : 
but perhaps there are few men who go on calmly in a course 
of very bad things, without somewhat of the kind now de- 
scribed in a very high degree. They try appearances upon 
themselves as well as upon the world, and with at least as i 
much success ; and choose to manage so as to make their own 
minds easy with their faults, which can scarce be without 
management, rather than to mend them. 

But whether from men's deluding themselves, or from their 
intending to delude the world, it is evident scarce any thing 
wrong in public has ever been accomplished, or even attempted, 
but under false colours : either by pretending one thing, which 
was right, to be designed, when it was really another thing, 
which was wrong ; or if that which was wrong was avowed, 
by endeavouring to give it some appearance of right. For ty- 
ranny, and faction so friendly to it, and which is indeed tyranny 
out of power, and unjust wars, and persecution, by which the 
earth has been laid waste; all this has all along been carried 
on with pretences of truth, right, general good. So it is, men 
cannot find in their heart to join in such things, without such 
*Eph. ii. 12. +Prov.xi. 3. J Isa. v. 20. § Psalm 1.21. 



House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41. 



195 



honest words to be the bond of the union, though they know 
among themselves, that they are only words, and often though 
they know, that every body else knows it too. 

These observations might be exemplified by numerous in- 
stances in the history which led to them : and without them 
it is impossible to understand in any sort the general charac- 
ter of the chief actors in it, who were engaged in the black 
design of subverting the constitution of their country. This 
they completed with the. most enormous act of mere power, 
in defiance of all laws of God and man, and in express con- 
tradiction to the real design and public votes of that assembly, 
whose commission, they professed, was their only warrant for 
any thing they did throughout the whole rebellion. Yet with 
unheard-of hypocrisy towards men, towards God and their 
own consciences, for without such a complication of it their 
conduct is inexplicable ; even this action, which so little ad- 
mitted of any cloak, was, we know, contrived and carried into 
execution, under pretences of authority, religion, liberty, and 
by profaning the forms of justice in an arraignment and trial, 
like to what is used in regular legal procedures. No age in- 
deed can shew an example of hypocrisy parallel to this. But 
the history of all ages and all countries will shew, what has 
been really going forward over the face of the earth, to be very 
different from what has been always pretended ; and that 
virtue has been every where professed much more than it has 
been any where practised : nor could society, from the very 
nature of its constitution, subsist without some general public 
profession of it. Thus the face and appearance which the 
world has in all times put on, for the ease and ornament of 
life, and in pursuit of further ends, is the justest satire upon 
what has in all times been carrying on under it : and ill men 
are destined, by the condition of their being as social crea- 
tures, always to bear about with them, and, in different de- 
grees, to profess, that law of virtue, by which they shall finally 
be judged and condemned. 

II. As fair pretences, of one sort or other, have thus always 
been made use of by mankind to colour over indirect and 
wrong designs from the world, and to palliate and excuse 
them to their own minds ; liberty, in common with all other 
good things, is liable to be made this use of, and is also liable 
to it in a way more peculiar to itself : which was the second 
thing to be considered. 

In the history which this day refers us to, we find our con- 

n 2 



196 



A Sermon preached before the 



stitution, in Church and State, destroyed under pretences, 
not only of religion, but of securing liberty, and carrying it 
to a greater height. The destruction of the former was with 
zeal of such a kind, as would not have been warrantable, 
though it had been employed in the destruction of heathen- 
ism. And the confusions, the persecuting spirit, and incre- 
dible fanaticism, which grew up upon its ruins, cannot but 
teach sober-minded men to reverence so mild and reasonable i 
an establishment, now it is restored ; for the preservation of 
Christianity, and keeping up a sense of it amongst us, and 
for the instruction and guide of the ignorant; nay were it 
only for guarding religion from such extravagances : espe- 
cially as these important purposes are served by it without 
being hard in the least upon any. 

And the concurrent course of things, which brought on 
the ruin of our civil constitution, and what followed upon it, 
are no less instructive. The opposition, by legal and par- 
liamentary methods, to prerogatives unknown to the constitu- 
tion, was doubtless formed upon the justest fears in behalf 
of it. But new distrusts arose : new causes were given for 
them : these were most unreasonably aggravated. The bet- 
ter part gradually gave way to the more violent : and the 
better part themselves seem to have insisted upon impracti- 
cable securities against that one danger to liberty, of which 
they had too great cause to be apprehensive ; and wonder- 
fully overlooked all dangers to it, which yet were, and ever 
will be, many and great. Thus they joined in the current 
measures, till they were utterly unable to stop the mischiefs, 
to which, with too much distrust on one side, and too little 
on the other, they had contributed. Never was a more re- 
markable example of the Wise Man's observation, that the 
beginning of strife is as ivhen one letteth out water* For this 
opposition, thus begun, surely without intent of proceeding 
to violence ; yet, as it went on, like an overflowing stream 
in its progress, it collected all sort of impurities, and grew 
more outrageous as it grew more corrupted ; till at length it 
bore down every thing good before it. This naturally brought 
on arbitrary power in one shape, which was odious to every 
body, and which could not be accommodated to the forms of 
our constitution ; and put us in the utmost danger of having 
it entailed upon us under another, which might. For at the 
king's return, such was the just indignation of the public at 

*Prov. xvii. 14. 



House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41. 



197 



what it had seen, and fear of feeling again what it had felt, 
from the popular side ; such the depression and compliance, 
not only of the more guilty, but also of those, who with bet- 
ter meaning had gone on with them ; and a great deal too 
far many of this character had gone ; and such the undis- 
tinguishing distrust the people had of them all, that the chief 
security of our liberties seems to have been, their not being 
attempted at that time. 

But though persons contributed to all this mischief and 
danger with different degrees of guilt, none could contribute 
to them with innocence, who at all knew what they were 
about. Indeed the destruction of a free constitution of go- 
vernment, though men see or fancy many defects in it, and 
whatever they design or pretend, ought not to be thought of 
without horror. For the design is in itself unjust, since it is 
romantic to suppose it legal : it cannot be prosecuted without 
the most wicked means ; nor accomplished but with the pre- 
sent ruin of liberty, religious as well as civil ; for it must be 
the ruin of its present security. Whereas the restoration of 
it must depend upon a thousand future contingencies, the 
integrity, understanding, power of the persons, into whose 
hands anarchy and confusion should throw things ; and who 
they will be, the history before us may surely serve to shew, 
no human foresight can determine * even though such a ter- 
rible crisis were to happen in an age, not distinguished for 
the want of principle and public spirit, and when nothing 
particular were to be apprehended from abroad. It would 
be partiality to say, that no constitution of government can 
| possibly be imagined more perfect than our own. And 
ingenuous youth may be warmed with the idea of one, against 
which nothing can be objected. But it is the strongest ob- 
jection against attempting to put in practice the most per- 
fect theory, that it is impracticable, or too dangerous to be 
attempted. And whoever will thoroughly consider, in what 
degree mankind are really influenced by reason, and in what 
degree by custom, may, I think, be convinced, that the state 
of human affairs does not even admit of an equivalent for the 
mischief of setting things afloat ; and the danger of parting 
with those securities of liberty, which arise from regulations 
of long prescription and ancient usage • especially at a time 
when the directors are so very numerous, and the obedient 
so few. Reasonable men therefore will look upon the ge- 
neral plan of our constitution, transmitted down to us by 



198 A Sermon preached before the 

our ancestors, as sacred; and content themselves with calmly- 
doing what their station requires, towards rectifying the par- 
ticular things which they think amiss, and supplying the 
particular things which they think deficient in it, so far as is 
practicable without endangering the whole. 

But liberty is in many other dangers from itself, besides aJ 
those which arise from formed designs of destroying it, under 
hypocritical pretences, or romantic schemes of restoring it 
upon a more perfect plan. It is particularly liable to become 
excessive, and to degenerate insensibly into licentiousness; 
in the same manner as liberality, for example, is apt to dege- 
nerate into extravagance. And as men cloak their extrava- 
gance to themselves under the notion of liberality, and to the 
world under the name of it, so licentiousness passes under 
the name and notion of liberty. Now it is to be observed, 
that there is, in some respects or other 5 a very peculiar con- 
trariety between those vices which consist in excess, and the 
virtues of which they are said to be the excess, and the 
resemblance, and whose names they affect to bear; the excess 
of any thing being always to its hurt, and tending to its de- 
struction. In this manner licentiousness is, in its very 
nature, a present infringement upon liberty, and dangerous 
to it for the future. Yet it is treated by many persons with 
peculiar indulgence under this very notion, as being an 
excess of liberty. And an excess of liberty it is to the licen- 
tious themselves : but what is it to those who suffer by them, 
and who do not think, that amends is at all made them by 
having it left in their power to retaliate safely ? When by 
popular insurrections, or defamatory libels, or in any like 
way, the needy and the turbulent securely injure quiet peo- 
ple in their fortune or good name, so far quiet people are no 
more free than if a single tyrant used them thus. A parti- 
cular man may be licentious without being less free : but a 
community cannot ; since the licentiousness of one will 
unavoidably break in upon the liberty of another. Civil 
liberty, the liberty of a community, is a severe and a re- 
strained thing ; implies in the notion of it, authority, settled 
subordinations, subjection, and obedience ; and is altogether 
as much hurt by too little of this kind, as by too much of it. 
And the love of liberty, when it is indeed the love of liberty, 
which carries us to withstand tyranny, will as much carry us 
to reverence authority, and support it; for this most obvious 
reason, that one is as necessary to the very being of liberty, 



House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41. 



199 



as the other is destructive of it. And therefore the love of 
liberty, which does not produce this effect ; the love of liberty, 
which is not a real principle of dutiful behavioui towards 
authority ; is as hypocritical, as the religion which is not 
productive of a good life. Licentiousness is, in truth, such 
an excess of liberty as is of the same nature with tyranny. 
For what is the difference between them, but that one is 
lawless power exercised under pretence of authority, or by 
persons invested with it • the other lawless power exercised 
under pretence of liberty, or without any pretence at all ? A 
people then must always be less free in proportion as they are 
more licentious ; licentiousness being not only different from 
liberty, but directly contrary to it ; a direct breach upon it. 

It is moreover of a growing nature ; and of speedy growth 
too ; and, with the culture which it has amongst us, needs no 
great length of time to get to such a height as no legal go- 
vernment will be able to restrain, or subsist under : which is 
the condition the historian describes in saying, they could 
neither bear their vices, nor the remedies of them.* I said 
legal government : for, in the present state of the world, 
there is no danger of our becoming savages. Had licen- 
tiousness finished its work, and destroyed our constitution, 
power would not be wanting, from one quarter or another, 
sufficient to subdue us, and keep us in subjection. But 
government, as distinguished from mere power, free govern- 
ment, necessarily implies reverence in the subjects of it, for 
authority, or power regulated by laws ; and an habit of sub- 
mission to the subordinations in civil life, throughout its 
several ranks : nor is a people capable of liberty without 
somewhat of this kind. But it must be observed, and less 
surely cannot be observed, this reverence and submission 
will at best be very precarious, if it be not founded upon a 
sense of authority being God's ordinance, and the subordi- 
nations in life a providential appointment of things. Now 
let it be considered, for surely it is not duly considered, 
what is really the short amount of those representations, 
which persons of superior rank give, and encourage to be 
given of each other, and which are spread over the nation ? 
Is it not somewhat, in itself, and in its circumstances, beyond 
any thing in any other age or country of the world? And 
what effect must the continuance of this extravagant licen- 
tiousness in them, not to mention other kinds of it, have upon 
Nec vitia nostra, nec remedia pati possumus. — Liv. lib. i. c. 1. 



200 A Sermon preached before the 

the people in those respects just mentioned ? Must it not 
necessarily tend to wear out of their minds all reverence for 
authority, and respect for superiors of every sort; and, joined 
with the irreligious principles we find so industriously pro- 
pagated, to introduce a total profligateness amongst them ; 
since, let them be as bad as they will, it is scarce possible 
they can be so bad as they are instructed they may be, or 
worse than they are told their superiors are ? And is there 
no danger that all this, to mention only one supposable 
course of it, may raise somewhat like that levelling spirit, 
upon atheistical principles, which, in the last age, prevailed 
upon enthusiastic ones ? not to speak of the possibility, that 
different sorts of people may unite in it upon these contrary 
principles. And may not this spirit, together with a concur- 
rence of ill humours, and of persons who hope to find their 
account in confusion, soon prevail to such a degree, as will 
require more of the good old principles of loyalty and of 
religion to withstand it, than appear to be left amongst us ? 

What legal remedies can be provided against these mis- 
chiefs, or whether any at all, are considerations the farthest 
from my thoughts. No government can be free, which is 
not administered by general stated laws : and these cannot 
comprehend every case, which wants to be provided against: 
nor can new ones be made for every particular case, as it 
arises : and more particular laws, as well as more general 
ones, admit of infinite evasions : and legal government forbids 
any but legal methods of redress; which cannot but be liable 
to the same sort of imperfections : besides the additional one 
of delay ; and whilst redress is delayed, however unavoid- 
ably, wrong subsists. Then there are very bad things, which 
human authority can scarce provide against at all, but by 
methods dangerous to liberty; nor fully, but by such as 
would be fatal to it. These things shew, that liberty, in the 
very nature of it, absolutely requires, and even supposes, that 
people be able to govern themselves in those respects in which 
they are free ; otherwise their wickedness will be in propor- 
tion to their liberty, and this greatest of blessings will become 
a curse. 

III. These things shew likewise, that there is but one 
adequate remedy to the forementioned evils, even that which 
the apostle prescribes in the last words of the text, to consider 
ourselves as the servants of God, who enjoins dutiful sub- 
mission to civil authority, as his ordinance ; and to whom 



House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41. 



201 



we are accountable for the use we make of the liberty which 
we enjoy under it. Since men cannot live out of society, nor 
in it without government, government is plainly a divine 
appointment; and consequently submission to it, a most 
evident duty of the law of nature. And we all know in how 
forcible a manner it is put upon our consciences in Scripture. 
Nor can this obligation be denied formally upon any prin- 
ciples, but such as subvert all other obligations. Yet many 
amongst us seem not to consider it as any obligation at all. 
This doubtless is, in a great measure, owing to dissoluteness 
and corruption of manners : but I think it is partly owing to 
their having reduced it to nothing in theory. Whereas this 
obligation ought to be put upon the same foot with all other 
general ones, which are not absolute and without exception : 
and our submission is due in all cases but those, which we 
really discern to be exceptions to the general rule. And they 
who are perpetually displaying the exceptions, though they 
do not indeed contradict the meaning of any particular texts 
of Scripture, which surely intended to make no alteration in 
men's civil rights ; yet they go against the general tenor of 
Scripture. For the Scripture, throughout the whole of it, 
commands submission ; supposing men apt enough of them- 
selves to make the exceptions, and not to need being con- 
tinually reminded of them. Now if we are really under any 
obligations of duty at all to magistrates, honour and respect, 
in our behaviour towards them, must doubtless be their due. 
And they who refuse to pay them this small and easy regard, 
who despise dominion, and speak evil of dignities* should 
seriously ask themselves, what restrains them from any other 
instance whatever of undutifulness ? And if it be principle, 
why not from this? Indeed free government supposes, that 
the conduct of affairs may be inquired into, and spoken of 
with freedom. Yet surely this should be done with decency, 
for the sake of liberty itself ; for its honour and its security. 
But be it done as it will, it is a very different thing from 
libelling, and endeavouring to vilify the persons of such as 
are in authority. It will be hard to find an instance, in 
which a serious man could calmly satisfy himself in doing 
this. It is in no case necessary, and in every case of very 
pernicious tendency. But the immorality of it increases in 
proportion to the integrity and superior rank of the persons 
thus treated. It is therefore in the highest degree immoral, 

* Jude8. 



202 



A Sermon preached 



when it extends to the supreme authority in the person of a 
prince, from whom our liberties are in no imaginable danger, 
whatever they may be from ourselves ; and whose mild and 
strictly legal government could not but make any virtuous 
people happy. 

A free government, which the good providence of God 
has preserved to us through innumerable dangers, is an in- 
valuable blessing. And our ingratitude to him in abusing of 
it must be great in proportion to the greatness of the bless- 
ing, and the providential deliverances by which it has been 
preserved to us. Yet the crime of abusing this blessing re- 
ceives further aggravation from hence, that such abuse always 
is to the reproach, and tends to the ruin of it. The abuse of 
liberty has directly overturned many free governments, as 
well as our own, on the popular side ; and has, in various 
ways, contributed to the ruin of many, which have been 
overturned on the side of authority. Heavy therefore must be 
their guilt, who shall be found to have given such advantages 
against it, as well as theirs who have taken them. 

Lastly, The consideration, that we are the servants of God, 
reminds us, that we are accountable to him for our behaviour 
in those respects, in which it is out of the reach of all human 
authority ; and is the strongest enforcement of sincerity, as 
all things are naked and open unto the eyes of him with whom 
we have to do.* Artificial behaviour might perhaps avail 
much towards quieting our consciences, and making our part 
good in the short competitions of this world : bat what will 
it avail us considered as under the government of God ? 
Under his government, there is no darkness, nor shadow of 
death, where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves.^ 
He has indeed instituted civil government over the face of 
the earth, for the punishment of evil-doers, and for the praise, 
the apostle does not say the rewarding, but, for the praise of 
them that do imll.% Yet as the worst answer these ends in 
some measure, the best can do it very imperfectly. Civil 
government can by no means take cognizance of every work, 
which is good or evil ; many things are done in secret ; the 
authors unknown to it, and often the things themselves : then 
it cannot so much consider actions, under the view of their 
being morally good, or evil, as under the view of their being 
mischievous, or beneficial to society: nor can it in anywise 
execute judgment in rewarding what is good, as it can, and 
* Heb. iv. 13. t Job xxxiv. 22. J Pet. ii. 14. 



at Christ-Church, London. 203 

ought, and does, in punishing what is evil. But God shall 
bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whe- 
ther it be good, or whether it be evil* 

SERMON IV. 

PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON, ON 
THURSDAY, MAY 9, 1745, BEING THE TIME OF THE YEARLY MEET- 
ING OF THE CHILDREN EDUCATED IN THE CHARITY-SCHOOLS IN 
AND ABOUT THE CITIES OF LONDON AND WESTMINSTER. 

Train up a child in the way he should go : and when he is old, he will 
not depart from it. — Prov. xxii. 6. 

Human creatures, from the constitution of their nature and 
the circumstances in which they are placed, cannot but ac- 
quire habits during their childhood, by the impressions which 
are given them, and their own customary actions. And long 
before they arrive at mature age, these habits form a general 
settled character. And the observation of the text, that the 
most early habits are usually the most lasting, is likewise every 
one's observation. Now whenever children are left to them- 
selves, and to the guides and companions which they choose, 
or by hazard light upon, we find by experience, that the first 
impressions they take, and course of action they get into, are 
very bad ; and so consequently must be their habits, and 
character, and future behaviour. Thus if they are not trained 
up in the way they should go, they will certainly be trained 
up in the way they should not go; and in all probability will 
persevere in it, and become miserable themselves, and mis- 
chievous to society : which, in event, is worse, upon account 
of both, than if they had been exposed to perish in their in- 
fancy. On the other hand, the ingenuous docility of children 
before they have been deceived, their distrust of themselves, 
and natural deference to grown people, whom they find here 
settled in a world where they themselves are strangers ; and 
to whom they have recourse for advice, as readily as for pro- 
tection ; which deference is still greater towards those who 
are placed over them : these things give the justest grounds 
to expect that they may receive such impressions, and be 
influenced to such a course of behaviour, as will produce 
lasting good habits ; and, together with the dangers before 
mentioned, are as truly a natural demand upon us to train 
them up in the way they should go, as their bodily wants are 

* Eccles. xii. 14. 



204 



.4 Sermon preached 



a demand to provide them bodily nourishment. Brute crea- 
tures are appointed to do no more than this last for their 
offspring, nature forming them by instincts to the particular 
manner of life appointed them ; from which they never de- 
viate. But this is so far from being the case of men, that, 
on the contrary, considering communities collectively, every 
successive generation is left, in the ordinary course of Provi- 
dence, to be formed by the preceding one; and becomes 
good or bad, though not without its own merit or demerit, 
as this trust is discharged or violated, chiefly in the manage- 
ment of youth. 

We ought, doubtless, to instruct and admonish grown per- 
sons ; to restrain them from what is evil, and encourage them 
in what is good, as we are able : but this care of youth, ab- 
stracted from all consideration of the parental affection, I say, 
this care of youth, which is the general notion of education , 
becomes a distinct subject, and a distinct duty, from the par- 
ticular danger of their ruin, if left to themselves, and the 
particular reason we have to expect they will do well, if due 
care be taken of them. And from hence it follows, that chil- 
dren have as much right to some proper education, as to have 
their lives preserved; and that when this is not given them 
by their parents, the care of it devolves upon all persons, it 
becomes the duty of all, who are capable of contributing to 
it, and whose help is wanted. 

These trite, but most important things, implied indeed in 
the text, being thus premised as briefly as I could express 
them, I proceed to consider distinctly the general manner in 
which the duty of education is there laid before us : which 
will further shew its extent, and further obviate the idle 
objections which have been made against it. And all this 
together will naturally lead us to consider the occasion and 
necessity of schools for the education of poor children, and in 
what light the objections against them are to be regarded. 

Solomon might probably intend the text for a particular 
admonition to educate children in a manner suitable to their 
respective ranks, and future employments : but certainly he 
intended it for a general admonition to educate them in virtue 
and religion, and good conduct of themselves in their temporal 
concerns. And all this together, in which they are to be 
educated, he calls the way they should go, i. e. he mentions it 
not as a matter of speculation, but of practice. And con- 
formably to this description of the things in which children 



at Christ-Church, London. 



205 



are to be educated, he describes education itself : for he calls 
it training them up ; which is a very different thing from 
merely teaching them some truths, necessary to be known or 
believed. It is endeavouring to form such truths into prac- 
tical principles in the mind, so as to render them of habitual 
good influence upon the temper and actions, in all the various 
occurrences of life. And this is not done by bare instruction ; 
but by that, together with admonishing them frequently as 
occasion offers ; restraining them from what is evil, and 
exercising them in what is good. Thus the precept of the 
apostle concerning this matter is, to bring up children in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord;* as it were by way of 
distinction from acquainting them merely with the principles 
of Christianity, as you would with any common theory. 
Though education were nothing more than informing chil- 
dren of some truths of importance to them, relating to religion 
and common life, yet there would be great reason for it, not- 
withstanding the frivolous objections concerning the danger 
of giving them prejudices. But when we consider that such 
information itself is really the least part of it ; and that it 
consists in endeavouring to put them into right dispositions 
of mind, and right habits of living, in eveiy relation and every 
capacity ; this consideration shews such objections to be quite 
absurd : since it shews them to be objections against doing 
a thing of the utmost importance at the natural opportunity 
of our doing it, childhood and youth ; and which is indeed, 
properly speaking, our only one. For when they are grown 
up to maturity, they are out of our hands, and must be left to 
themselves. The natural authority on one side ceases, and 
the deference on the other. God forbid, that it should be 
impossible for men to recollect themselves, and reform at an 
advanced age : but it is in no sort in the power of others to 
gain upon them ; to turn them away from what is wrong, and 
enforce upon them what is right, at that season of their lives, 
in the manner we might have done in their childhood. 

Doubtless religion requires instruction, for it is founded 
in knowledge and belief of some truths. And so is common 
prudence in the management of our temporal affairs. Yet 
neither of them consist in the knowledge or belief even of 
these fundamental truths ; but in our being brought by such 
knowledge or belief to a correspondent temper and behaviour. 
Religion, as it stood under the Old Testament, is perpetually 

* Eph, vi. 4. 



206 



A Sermon preached 



styled the fear of God : under the New, faith in Christ. But 
as that fear of God does not signify literally being afraid of 
him, but having a good heart, and leading a good life, in 
consequence of such fear ; so this faith in Christ does not 
signify literally believing in him in the sense that word is used 
in common language, but becoming his real disciples, in con- 
sequence of such belief. 

Our religion being then thus practical, consisting in a frame 
of mind and course of behaviour, suitable to the dispensation 
we are under, and which will bring us to our final good ; 
children ought, by education, to be habituated to this course 
of behaviour, and formed into this frame of mind. And it 
must ever be remembered, that if no care be taken to do it, 
they will grow up in a direct contrary behaviour, and be 
hardened in direct contrary habits. They will more and more 
corrupt themselves, and spoil their proper nature. They will 
alienate themselves further from God ; and not only neglect, 
but trample under foot, the means which he in his infinite 
mercy has appointed for our recovery. And upon the whole, 
the same reasons, which shew, that they ought to be instructed 
and exercised in what will render them useful to society, 
secure them from the present evils they are in danger of in- 
curring, and procure them that satisfaction which lies within 
the reach of human prudence ; shew likewise, that they 
ought to be instructed and exercised in what is suitable to the 
highest relations in which we stand, and the most important 
capacity in which we can be considered ; in that temper of 
mind and course of behaviour, which will secure them from 
their chief evil, and bring them to their chief good. Besides 
that religion is the principal security of men's acting a right 
part in society, and even in respect to their own temporal 
happiness, all things duly considered. 

It is true indeed, children may be taught superstition, 
under the notion of religion ; and it is true also, that, under 
the notion of prudence, they may be educated in great mis- 
takes as to the nature of real interest and good, respecting the 
present world. But this is no more a reason for not educat- 
ing them according to the best of our judgment, than our 
knowing how very liable we all are to err in other cases, is a 
reason why we should not, in those other cases, act according 
to the best of our judgment. 

It being then of the greatest importance, that children 
should be thus educated, the providing schools to give this 



at Christ-Church, London. 207 

education to such of them as would not otherwise have it, 
nas the appearance, at least at first sight, of deserving a place 
amongst the very best of good works. One would be back* 
ward, methinks, in entertaining prejudices against it ; and 
very forward, if one had any, to lay them aside, upon being 
shewn that they were groundless. Let us consider the whole 
state of the case. For though this will lead us some little 
compass, yet I choose to do it ; and the rather, because there 
are people who speak of charity-schools as a new-invented 
scheme, and therefore to be looked upon with I know not 
what suspicion. Whereas it will appear, that the scheme of 
charity-schools, even the part of it which is most looked upon 
in this light, teaching the children letters and accounts, is no 
otherwise new, than as the occasion for it is so. 

Formerly not only the education of poor children, but also 
their maintenance, with that of the other poor, were left to 
voluntary charities. But great changes of different sorts 
happening over the nation, and charity becoming more cold, 
or the poor more numerous, it was found necessary to make 
some legal provision for them. This might, much more pro- 
perly than charity-schools, be called a new scheme. For, 
without question, the education of poor children was all along 
taken care of by voluntary charities, more or less : but obliging 
us by law to maintain the poor, was new in the reign of queen 
Elizabeth. Yet, because a change of circumstances made it 
necessary, its novelty was no reason against it. Now in that 
legal provision for the maintenance of the poor, poor children 
must doubtless have had a part in common with grown peo- 
ple. But this could never be sufficient for children, because 
their case always requires more than mere maintenance ; it 
requires that they be educated in some proper manner. 
Wherever there are poor who want to be maintained by cha- 
rity, there must be poor children who, besides this, want to 
be educated by charity. And whenever there began to be 
need of legal provision for the maintenance of the poor, there 
must immediately have been need also of some particular 
legal provision in behalf of poor children for their education ; 
this not being included in what we call their maintenance. 
And many whose parents are able to maintain them, and do 
so, may yet be utterly neglected as to their education. But 
possibly it might not at first be attended to, that the case of 
poor children was thus a case by itself, which required its 
own particular provision. Certainly it would not appear, to 



208 A Sermon preached 

the generality, so urgent a one as the want of food and rai- 
ment. And it might be necessary, that a burden so entirely 
new as that of a poor-tax was at the time I am speaking of, 
should be as light as possible. Thus the legal provision for 
the poor was first settled ; without any particular considera- 
tion of that additional want in the case of children ; as it still 
remains, with scarce any alteration in this respect. In the 
mean time, as the poor still increased, or charity still lessened, 
many poor children were left exposed, not to perish for want 
of food, but to grow up in society, and learn every thing that 
is evil and nothing that is good in it ; and when they were 
grown up, greatly at a loss in what honest way to provide for 
themselves, if they could be supposed inclined to it. And 
larger numbers, whose case was not so bad as this, yet were 
very far from having due care taken of their education. And 
the evil went on increasing, till it was grown to such a degree, 
as to be quite out of the compass of separate charities to re- 
medy. At length some excellent persons, who were united 
in a Society* for carrying on almost every good work, took 
into consideration the neglected case I have been represent- 
ing ; and first of all, as I understand it, set up charity- 
schools ; or however promoted them, as far as their abilities 
and influence could extend. Their design was not in any sort 
to remove poor children out of the rank in which they were 
born, but, keeping them in it, to give them the assistance which 
their circumstances plainly called for; by educating them in 
the principles of religion, as well as civil life ; and likewise 
making some sort of provision for their maintenance : under 
which last I include clothing them, giving them such learn- 
ing, if it is to be called by that name, as may qualify them for 
some common employment, and placing them out to it, as 
they grow up. These two general designs coincide in many 
respects, and cannot be separated. For teaching the children 
to read, though I have ranked it under the latter, equally be- 
longs to both : and without some advantages of the latter sort, 
poor people would not send their children to our charity- 
schools : nor could the poorest of all be admitted into any 
schools, without some charitable provision of clothing. And 
care is taken, that it be such as cannot but be a restraint upon 
the children. And if this, or any part of their education, 
gives them any little vanity, as has been poorly objected, 
whilst they are children, it is scarce possible but that it will 
* Society for promoting Christian Knowledge. 



at Christ -Church, London. 



209 



have even a quite contrary effect when they are grown up, 
and ever after remind them of their rank. Yet still we find 
it is apprehended that what they here learn may set them 
above it. 

But why should people be so extremely apprehensive of 
the danger, that poor persons will make a perverse use of 
every the least advantage, even the being able to read, whilst 
they do not appear at all apprehensive of the like danger for 
themselves or their own children, in resptfct of riches or 
power, how much soever ; though the danger of perverting 
these advantages is surely as great, and the perversion itself 
of much greater and worse consequence? And by what odd 
reverse of things has it happened, that such as pretend to be 
distinguished for the love of liberty should be the only per- 
sons who plead for keeping down the poor, as one may 
speak ; for keeping them more inferior in this respect, and, 
which must be the consequence, in other respects, than they 
were in times past ? For till within a century or two all ranks 
were nearly upon a level as to the learning in question. The 
art of printing appears to have been providentially reserved 
till these latter ages, and then providentially brought into use, 
as what was to be instrumental for the future in carrying on 
the appointed course of things. The alterations which this 
art has even already made in the face of the world are not 
inconsiderable. By means of it, whether immediately or re- 
motely, the methods of carrying on business are, in several 
repects, improved, knowledge has been increased * and some 
sort of literature is become general. And if this be a bless- 
ing, we ought to let the poor, in their degree, share it with 
us. The present state of things and course of providence 
plainly leads us to do so. 

And if we do not, it is certain, how little soever it be at- 
tended to, that they will be upon a greater disadvantage, on 
l many accounts, especially in populous places, than they were 
in the dark ages : for they will be more ignorant, compara- 
tively with the people about them, than they were then ; and 
the ordinary affairs of the world are now put in a way which 
requires that they should have some knowledge of letters, 
which was not the case then. And therefore to bring up 
the poor in their former ignorance, now this knowledge is so 
much more common and wanted, would be, not to keep them 
in the same, but to put them into a lower condition of life 

* Dan. xih 4. 



BUTLER. 



O 



210 



A Sermon preached 



than what they were in formerly. Nor let people of rank 
flatter themselves, that ignorance will keep their inferiors 
more dutiful and in greater subjection to them : for surely 
there must be danger that it will have a contrary effect under 
a free government such as ours, and in a dissolute age. In- 
deed the principles and manners of the poor, as to virtue and 
religion, will always be greatly influenced, as they always 
have been, by the example of their superiors, if that would 
mend the matter. And this influence will, I suppose, be 
greater, if they are kept more inferior than formerly in all 
knowledge and improvement. But unless their superiors of 
the present age, superiors, I mean of the middle, as well as 
higher ranks in society, are greater examples of public spirit, 
of dutiful submission to authority, human and divine, of mo- 
deration in diversions, and proper care of their families and 
domestic affairs ; unless, I say, superiors of the present age are 
greater examples of decency, virtue, and religion, than those 
of former times ; for what reason in the world is it desirable 
that their example should have this greater influence over 
the poor? On the contrary, why should not the poor, by 
being taught to read, be put into a capacity of making some 
improvement in moral and religious knowledge, and confirm- 
ing themselves in those good principles, which will be a great 
security for their following the example of their superiors if 
it be good, and some sort of preservative against their follow- 
it if it be bad ? And serious persons will further observe very 
singular reasons for this amongst us ; from the discontinu- 
ance of that religious intercourse between pastors and people 
in private, which remain in Protestant churches abroad, as 
well as in the church of Rome ; and from our small public 
care and provision for keeping up a sense of religion in the 
lower rank, except by distributing religious books. For in 
this way they have been assisted ; and any well-disposed per- 
son may do much good amongst them, and at a very trifling 
expense, since the worthy Society before mentioned has so 
greatly lessened the price of such books. But this pious 
charity is an additional reason why the poor should be taught 
to read, that they may be in a capacity of receiving the be- 
nefit of it. Vain indeed w 7 ould be the hope, that any thing 
in this world can be fully secured from abuse. For as it is 
the general scheme of divine Providence to bring good out 
of evil ; so the wickedness of men will, if it be possible, bring 
evil out of good. But upon the whole, incapacity and igno- 



at Christ-Church, London, 



211 



ranee must be favourable to error and vice; and knowledge 
and improvement contribute, in due time, to the destruction 
of impiety as well as superstition, and to the general preva- 
lence of true religion. But some of these observations may 
perhaps be thought too remote from the present occasion. 
It is more obviously to the purpose of it to observe, that 
reading, writing, and accounts, are useful, and, whatever 
cause it is owing to, would really now be wanted in the very 
lowest stations : and that the trustees of our charity-schools 
are fully convinced of the great fitness of joining to instruc- 
tion easy labour, of some sort or other, as fast as it is prac- 
ticable ; which they have already been able to do in some of 
them. 

Then as to placing out the poor children, as soon as they 
are arrived at a fit age for it ; this must be approved by every 
one, as it is putting them in a way of industry under do- 
mestic government, at a time of life, in some respects, more 
dangerous than even childhood. And it is a known thing, 
that care is taken to do it in a manner which does not set 
them above their rank : though it is not possible always to 
do it exactly as one would wish. Yet, I hope it may be ob- 
served without offence, if any of them happen to be of a very 
weakly constitution, or of a very distinguished capacity, there 
can be no impropriety in placing these in employments 
adapted to their particular cases ; though such as would be 
very improper for the generality. 

But the principal design of this charity is to educate poor 
children in such a manner, as has a tendency to make them 
good, and useful, and contented, whatever their particular 
station be. The care of this is greatly neglected by the 
poor : nor truly is it more regarded by the rich, considering 
what might be expected from them. And if it were as prac- 
ticable to provide charity-schools, which should supply this 
shameful neglect in the rich, as it is to supply the like, 
though more excusable, neglect in the poor, I should think 
certainly, that both ought to be done for the same reasons. 
And most people, I hope, will think so too, if they attend to 
the thing I am speaking of; which is the moral and religious 
part of education ; what is equally necessary for all ranks, 
and grievously wanting in all. Yet in this respect the poor 
must be greatly upon a disadvantage, from the nature of the 
case ; as will appear to any one who will consider it. 

For if poor children are not sent to school, several years of 

o 2 



212 



A Sermon preached 



their childhood of course pass away in idleness and loitering. 
This has a tendency to give them perhaps a feeble listless- 
ness, perhaps a headstrong profligateness of mind ; cer- 
tainly an indisposition to proper application as they grow- 
up, and an aversion afterward, not only to the restraints of 
religion, but to those which any particular calling, and even 
the nature of society, require. Whereas children kept to 
stated orders, and who many hours of the day are in employ- 
ment, are by this means habituated both to submit to those who 
are placed over them, and to govern themselves ; and they 
are also by this means prepared for industry, in any way of 
life in which they may be placed. And all this holds ab- 
stracted from the consideration of their being taught to read; 
without which, however, it will be impracticable to employ 
their time : not to repeat the unanswerable reasons for it 
before mentioned. Now several poor people cannot, others 
will not be at the expense of sending their children to school. 
And let me add, that such as can and are willing, yet if it 
be very inconvenient to them, ought to be eased of it, and 
the burden of children made as light as may^be to their poor 
parents. 

Consider next the manner in which the children of the 
poor, who have vicious parents, are brought up, in compa- 
rison with other children whose parents are of the same cha- 
racter. The children of dissolute men of fortune may have 
the happiness of not seeing much of their parents. And 
this, even though they are educated at home, is often the 
case, by means of a customary distance between them, which 
cannot be kept amongst the poor. Nor is it impossible, that 
a rich man of this character, desiring to have his children 
better than himself, may provide them such an education as 
may make them so, without his having any restraint or trou- 
ble in the matter. And the education which children of 
better rank must have, for their improvement in the common 
accomplishments belo nging to it, is of course, as yet, for the 
most part, attended with some sort of religious education. 
But the poor, as they cannot provide persons to educate 
their children ; so, from the way in which they live together 
in poor families, a child must be an eye and ear witness of 
the worst part of his parents' talk and behaviour. And it 
cannot but be expected, that his own will be formed upon it. 
For as example in general has very great influence upon all 
persons, especially children, the example of their parents is 



at Christ-Churchy London. 



213 



of authority with them, when there is nothing to balance it 
on the other side. Now take in the supposition, that these 
parents are dissolute, profligate people; then, over and above 
giving their children no sort of good instruction, and a very 
bad example, there are more crimes than one in which, it 
may be feared, they will directly instruct and encourage 
them ; besides letting them ramble abroad wherever they 
will, by which, of course, they learn the very same princi- 
ples and manners they do at home. And from all these 
things together, such poor children will have their charac- 
ters formed to vice, by those whose business it is to restrain 
them from it. They will be disciplined and trained up in it. 
This surely is a case which ought to have some public pro- 
vision made for it. If it cannot have an adequate one, yet 
such a one as it can : unless it be thought so rare as not to 
deserve our attention. But in reality, though there should 
be no more parents of this character amongst the poor, in 
proportion, than amongst the rich, the case which I have 
been putting will be far from being uncommon. Now not- 
withstanding the danger to which the children of such 
wretched parents cannot but be exposed, from what they 
see at home ; yet by instilling into them the principles of 
virtue and religion at school, and placing them soon out in 
sober families, there is ground to hope they may avoid those 
ill courses, and escape that ruin, into which, without this 
care, they would almost certainly run. I need not add how 
much greater ground there is to expect, that those of the 
children who have religious parents will do well. For such 
parents, besides setting their children a good example, will 
likewise repeat and enforce upon them at home the good 
instructions they receive at school. 

After all, we find the world continues very corrupt. And 
it would be miraculous indeed, if charity- schools alone 
should make it otherwise ; or if they should make even all 
who are brought up in them proof against its corruptions. 
The truth is, every method that can be made use of to pre- 
vent or reform the bad manners of the age, will appear to be 
of less effect, in proportion to the greater occasion there is 
for it : as cultivation, though the most proper that can be, 
will produce less fruit, or of a worse sort, in a bad climate 
than in a good one. And thus the character of the common 
people, with whom these children are to live, in the ordinary 
intercourse of business and company when they come out 



214 



A Sermon preached 



into the world, may more or less defeat the good effects of 
their education. And so likewise may the character of men 
of rank, under whose influence they are to live. But what- 
ever danger may be apprehended from either or both of these, 
it can be no reason why we should not endeavour, by the 
likeliest methods we can, to better the world, or keep it from 
growing worse. The good tendency of the method before 
us is unquestionable. And I think myself obliged to add, 
that upon a comparison of parishes where charity-schools 
have been for a considerable time established, with neigh- 
bouring ones, in like situations, which have had none, the 
good effects of them, as I am very credibly informed, are 
most manifest. Notwithstanding I freely own, that it is 
extremely difficult to make the necessary comparisons in 
this case, and form a judgment upon them. And a multi- 
tude of circumstances must come in to determine, from ap- 
pearances only, concerning the positive good which is pro- 
duced by this charity, and the evil which is prevented by it ; 
which last is full as material as the former, and can scarce 
be estimated at all. But surely there can be no doubt whe- 
ther it be useful or not, to educate children in order, virtue, 
and religion. 

However, suppose, which is yet far from being the case, 
but suppose it should seem, that this undertaking did not 
answer the expense and trouble of it, in the civil or political 
way of considering things. What is this to persons who 
profess to be engaged in it, not only upon mere civil views, 
but upon moral and Christian ones ? We are to do our en- 
deavours to promote virtue and religion amongst men, and 
leave the success to God : the designs of his providence are 
answered by these endeavours, whether they will hear, or 
whether they will forbear ; i. e. whatever be the success of 
them : and the least success in such endeavours is a great 
and valuable effect* 

From these foregoing observations, duly considered, it 
will appear, that the objections, which have been made 
against charity-schools, are to be regarded in the same light 
with those which are made against any other necessary 
things ; for instance, against providing for the sick and the 
aged poor. Objections in this latter case could be considered 
no otherwise than merely as warnings of some inconvenience 

* See the Sermon before the Society for the Propagation 
of the Gospel. 



at Christ-Church, London. 



215 



which might accompany such charity, and might, more or 
less, be guarded against, the charity itself being still kept 
up ; or as proposals for placing it upon some better foot. 
For though, amidst the disorder and imperfection in all 
human things, these objections were not obviated, they 
could not however possibly be understood as reasons for 
discontinuing such charity ; because, thus understood, they 
would be reasons for leaving necessitous people to perish. 
Well-disposed persons therefore will take care, that they be 
not deluded with objections against this before us, any more 
than against other necessary charities ; as though such ob- 
jections were reasons for suppressing them, or not contri- 
buting to their support, unless we can procure an alteration 
of that to which we object, There can be no possible reasons 
for leaving poor children in that imminent danger of ruin, 
in which many of these must be left, were it not for this 
charity. Therefore objections against it cannot, from the 
nature of the case, amount to more than reasons for endea- 
vouring, whether with or without success, to put it upon a 
right and unexceptionable foot, in the particular respects 
objected against. And if this be the intention of the ob- 
jectors, the managers of it have shewn themselves remark- 
ably ready to second them : for they have shewn even a 
docility in receiving admonitions of any thing thought amiss 
in it, and proposals for rendering it more complete : and, 
under the influence of this good spirit, the management of 
it is really improving ; particularly in greater endeavours to 
introduce manufactures into these schools ; and in more par- 
ticular care to place the children out to employments in which 
they are most wanted, and may be most serviceable, and 
which are most suitable to their ranks. But if there be any 
thing in the management of them, which some particular 
persons think should be altered, and others are of a contrary 
opinion, these things must be referred to the judgment of the 
public, and the determination of the public complied with. 
Such compliance is an essential principle of all charitable 
associations ; for without it they could not subsist at all : and 
by charitable associations, multitudes are put in mind to do 
good, who otherwise would not have thought of it; and 
infinitely more good may be done, than possibly can by the 
separate endeavours of the same number of charitable per- 
sons. Now he who refuses to help forward the good work 
before us, because it is not conducted exactly in his own 



216 



A Sermon preached before 



way, breaks in upon that general principle of union, winch 
those who are friends to the indigent and distressed part of 
our fellow-creatures will be very cautious how they do in any 
case : but more especially will they beware, how they break 
in upon that necessary principle in a case of so great import- 
ance as is the present. For the public is as much interested 
in the education of poor children, as in the preservation of 
their lives. 

This last, I observed, is legally provided for. The former 
is left amongst other works of charity, neglected by many 
who care for none of these things, and to be carried on by 
such only as think it their concern to be doing good. Some 
of you are able, and in a situation, to assist in it in an emi- 
nent degree, by being trustees, and overlooking the manage- 
ment of these schools ; or in different ways countenancing 
and recommending them ; as well as by contributing to their 
maintenance : others can assist, only in this latter way. In 
what manner and degree then it belongs to you, and to me, 
and to any particular person, to help it forward, let us all 
consider seriously, not for one another, but each of us for 
himself. 

And may the blessing of Almighty God accompany this 
work of charity, which he has put into the hearts of his 
servants, in behalf of these poor children ; that being now 
trained up in the way they should go, when they are old 
they may not depart from it. May he, of his mercy keep 
them safe amidst the innumerable dangers of this bad 
world, through which they are to pass, and preserve them 
unto his heavenlv kinp;dom. 

SERMON V. 

PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IX THE ABBEY- CHURCH OF 
WESTMINSTER, ON THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1747, BEING THE ANNI- 
VERSARY OF HIS MAJESTY'S HAPPY ACCESSION TO THE THRONE. 

J exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions , and giving of 
thanks, be made for all men ; for kings, and for all that arc in authority ; 
that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty. — 
1 Tim. ii. 1, 2. 

It is impossible to describe the general end which Provi- 
dence has appointed us to aim at in our passage through the 
present world, in more expressive words than these very 



the House of Lords. 



217 



plain ones of the apostle, to lead a quiet and peaceable life, in 
all godliness and honesty : a quiet and peaceable life, by way 
of distinction, surely, from eager, tumultuary pursuits in our 
private capacity, as well as in opposition both to our making 
insurrections in the state, and to our suffering oppression 
from it. To lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness 
and honesty, is the whole that we have any reason to be con- 
cerned for. To this the constitution of our nature carries 
us ; and our external condition is adapted to it. 

Now in aid to this general appointment of Providence, 
civil government has been instituted over the world, both by 
the light of nature and by revelation, to instruct men in the 
duties of fidelity, justice, and regard to common good, and 
enforce the practice of these virtues, without which there 
could have been no peace or quiet amongst mankind ; and 
to preserve, in different ways, a sense of religion as well as 
virtue, and of God's authority over us. For if we could 
suppose men to have lived out of government, they must 
have run wild, and all knowledge of divine things must 
have been lost from among them. But by means of their 
uniting under it, they have been preserved in some tolerable 
security from the fraud and violence of each other ; order, 
a sense of virtue, and the practice of it, has been in some 
measure kept up ; and religion, more or less pure, has been 
all along spread and propagated. So that I make no scruple 
to affirm, that civil government has been, in all ages, a stand- 
ing publication of the law of nature, and an enforcement of 
it ; though never in its perfection, for the most part greatly 
corrupted, and I suppose always so in some degree. 

And considering that civil government is that part of 
God's government over the world, which he exercises by the 
instrumentality of men, wherein that which is oppression, 
injustice, cruelty, as coming from them, is under his direction, 
necessary discipline, and just punishment ; considering that 
all power is of God* all authority is properly of divine ap- 
pointment ; men's very living under magistracy might natu- 
rally have led them to the contemplation of authority in its 
source and origin ; the one, supreme, absolute authority of 
Almighty God ; by which he doeth according to his will in 
the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth :f 
which he now exerts, visibly and invisibly, by different in- 
struments, in different forms of administration, different 
* Rom. xiii. 1. f Dan. iv. 35. 



218 



A Sermon preached before 



methods of discipline and punishment; and which he will 
continue to exert hereafter, not only over mankind when this 
mortal life shall be ended, but throughout his universal 
kingdom ; till, by having rendered to all according to their 
works, he shall have completely executed that just scheme 
of government, which he has already begun to execute in 
this world, by their hands, whom he has appointed, for the 
present 'punishment of evil-doers, and for the praise of them 
that do ivell* 

And though that perfection of justice cannot in any sort 
take place in this world, even under the very best govern- 
ments ; yet under the worst, men have been enabled to lead 
much more quiet and peaceable lives, as well as attend to 
and keep up a sense of religion much more, than they could 
possibly have done without any government at all. But a 
free Christian government is adapted to answer these pur- 
poses in a higher degree, in proportion to its just liberty, 
and the purity of its religious establishment. And as we 
enjoy these advantages, civil and religious, in a very eminent 
degree, under a good prince, and those he has placed in 
authority over us, we are eminently obliged to offer up sup- 
plications and thanksgivings in their behalf ; to pay them 
all that duty which these prayers imply ; and to lead, as 
those advantages enable and have a tendency to dispose us 
to do, quiet and peaceable lives in all godliness and honesty. 

Of the former of these advantages, our free constitution 
of civil government, we seem to have a very high value. 
And if we would keep clear from abuses of it, it could not 
be overvalued ; otherwise than as every thing may, when 
considered as respecting this world only. We seem, I say, 
sufficiently sensible of the value of our civil liberty. It is 
our daily boast, and we are in the highest degree jealous of 
it. Would to God we were somewhat more judicious in 
our jealousy of it, so as to guard against its chief enemy, 
one might say, the only enemy of it, we have at present to 
fear ; I mean licentiousness ; which has undermined so many 
free governments, and without whose treacherous help no 
free government, perhaps, ever was undermined. This 
licentiousness indeed, is not only dangerous to liberty, but 
it is actually a present infringement of it in many instances. 
— But I must not turn this good day into a day of reproach. 
Dropping then the encroachments which are made upon our 

* 1 Pet. ii. 14. 



the House of Lords. 219 

liberty, peace, and quiet by licentiousness, we are certainly 
a freer nation than any other we have an account of ; and 
as free, it seems, as the very nature of government will 
permit. Every man is equally under the protection of the 
laws; may have equal justice against the most rich and 
powerful ; and securely enjoy all the common blessings of 
life, with which the industry of his ancestors, or his own, has 
furnished him. In some other countries the upper part of 
the world is free, but in Great Britain the whole body of the 
people is free. For we have at length, to the distinguished 
honour of those who began, and have more particularly la- 
boured in it, emancipated our northern provinces from most 
of their legal remains of slavery : for voluntary slavery can- 
not be abolished, at least not directly, by law. I take leave 
to speak of this long-desired work as done ; since it wants 
only his concurrence, who, as we have found by many years' 
experience, considers the good of his people as his own. 
And I cannot but look upon these acts of the legislature in 
a further view, as instances of regard to posterity ; and decla- 
rations of its readiness to put every subject upon an equal 
foot of security and freedom, if any of them are not so, in any 
other respects, which come into its view ; and as a precedent 
and example for doing it. 

Liberty, which is the very genius of our civil constitution, 
and runs through every branch of it, extends its influence to 
the ecclesiastical part of it. A religious establishment with- 
out a toleration of such as think they cannot in conscience 
conform to it, is itself a general tyranny ; because it claims 
absolute authority over conscience ; and would soon beget 
particular kinds of tyranny of the worse sort, tyranny over 
the mind, and various superstitions ; after the way should be 
paved for them, as it soon must, by ignorance. On the other 
hand, a constitution of civil government without any religious 
establishment is a chimerical project, of which there is no 
example : and which, leaving the generality without guide 
and instruction, must leave religion to be sunk and forgotten 
amongst them ; and at the same time give full scope to super- 
stition, and the gloom of enthusiasm ; which last, especially, 
ought surely to be diverted and checked, as far as it can be 
done without force. Now a reasonable establishment pro- 
vides instruction for the ignorant, withdraws them, not in the 
way of force, but of guidance, from running after those kinds 
of conceits. It doubtless has a tendency likewise to keep up 



220 



A Sermon 'preached before 



a sense of real religion and real Christianity in a nation : and 
is moreover necessary for the encouragement of learning ; 
some parts of which the scripture-revelation absolutely re- 
quires should be cultivated. 

It is to be remarked further, that the value of any particular 
religious establishment is not to be estimated merely b}^ what 
it is in itself, but also by what it is in comparison with those 
of other nations ; a comparison which will sufficiently teach 
us not to expect perfection in human things. And what is 
still more material, the value of our own ought to be very 
much heightened in our esteem, by considering what it is a 
security from ; I mean that great corruption of Christianity, 
popery, which is ever hard at work to bring us again under 
its yoke. Whoever will consider the popish claims, to the 
disposal of the whole earth, as of divine right, to dispense 
with the most sacred engagements, the claims to supreme 
absolute authority in religion ; in short, the general claims 
which the canonists express by the words plentitude of power 
— whoever, I say, will consider popery as it is professed at 
Rome, may see, that it is manifest, open usurpation of all 
human and divine authority. But even in those Roman 
Catholic countries where these monstrous claims are not ad- 
mitted, and the civil power does, in many respects, restrain 
the papal ; yet persecution is professed, as it is absolutely 
enjoined by what is acknowledged to be their highest autho- 
rity, a general council, so called, with the pope at the head 
of it ; and is practised in all of them, I think without excep- 
tion, where it can be done safely. Thus they go on to sub- 
stitute force instead of argument ; and external profession 
made by force instead of reasonable conviction. And thus 
corruptions of the grossest sort have been in vogue, for many 
generations, in many parts of Christendom ; and are so still, 
even where popery obtains in its least absurd form : and 
their antiquity and wide extent are insisted upon as proofs of 
their truth ; a kind of proof, which at best can be only pre- 
sumptive, but which loses all its little weight, in proportion 
as the long and large prevalence of such corruptions have 
been obtained by force. 

Indeed it is said in the book of Job, that the worship of 
the sun and moon was an iniquity to be punished by the judge.* 
And this, though it is not so much as a precept, much less a 
general one, is, I think, the only passage of scripture which 
* Job xxxi. 26, 27, 28. 



the House of Lords. 



221 



can with any colour be alleged in favour of persecution of 
any sort : for what the Jews did, and what they were com- 
manded to do, under their theocracy, are both quite out of 
the case. But whenever that book was written, the scene of 
it is laid at a time when idolatry was in its infancy, an ac- 
knowledged novelty, essentially destructive of true religion, 
arising perhaps from mere wantonness of imagination. In 
these circumstances, this greatest of evils, which afterwards 
laid waste true religion over the face of the earth, might have 
been suppressed at once, without danger of mistake or abuse. 
And one might go on to add, that if those to whom the care 
of this belonged, instead of serving themselves of prevailing 
superstitions, had in all ages and countries opposed them in 
their rise, and adhered faithfully to that primitive religion, 
which was received of old, since man was 'placed upon earth ;* 
there could not possibly have been any such difference of 
opinion concerning the Almighty Governor of the world, 
as could have given any pretence for tolerating the idolatries 
which overspead it. On the contrary, his universal monarchy 
must have been universally recognised, and the general laws 
of it more ascertained and known, than the municipal ones 
of any particular country can be. In such a state of religion, 
as it could not but have been acknowledged by all mankind, 
that immorality of every sort was disloyalty to him, the high 
and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy ;\ 
so it could not but have been manifest, that idolatry, in those 
determinate instances of it, was plain rebellion against him ; 
and therefore might have been punished as an offence, of the 
highest kind, against the Supreme Authority in nature. But 
this is in no sort applicable to the present state of religion 
in the world. For if the principle of punishing idolatry 
w T ere now admitted amongst the several different parties in 
religion, the weakest in every place would run a great risk 
of being convicted of it; or however heresy and schism 
would soon be found crimes of the same nature, and equally 
deserving punishment. Thus the spirit of persecution would 
range without any stop or control, but what should arise from 
its want of power. But our religious establishment disclaims 
all principles of this kind, and desires not to keep persons in 
its communion, or gain proselytes to it, by any other methods 
than the Christian ones of argument and conviction. 

These hints may serve to remind us of the value we ought 
* Job xx. 4. -f- Isaiah lvii. 15. 



222 



A Sermon pleached before 



to set upon our constitution in Church and State, the advan- 
tages of which are the proper subjects of our commemoration 
on this day, as his majesty has shewn himself, not in words, 
but in the whole course of his reign, the guardian and pro- 
tector of both. And the blessings of his reign are not only 
rendered more sensible, but are really heightened, by its 
securing us from that pretender to his crown, whom we had 
almost forgot, till our late danger renewed our apprehensions ; 
who, we know, is a professed enemy to our church ; and 
grown old in resentments and maxims of government directly 
contrary to our civil constitution ; nay his very claim is 
founded in principles destructive of it. Our deliverance 
and our security from this danger, with all the other bless- 
ings of the king's government, are so many reasons, for sup- 
plications, prayers, intercessions, and giv'mg of thanks, to 
which we are exhorted ; as well as for all other dutiful beha- 
viour towards it ; and should also remind us to take care and 
make due improvement of those blessings, by leading, in the 
enjoyment of them, quiet and peaceable lives, in all godliness 
and honesty. 

The Jewish church offered sacrifices even for heathen 
princes to whom they were in subjection : and the primitive 
Christian church, the Christian sacrifices of supplications 
and prayers for the prosperity of the emperor and the state ; 
though they were falsely accused of being enemies to both, 
because they would not join in their idolatries. In con- 
formity to these examples of the church of God in all ages, 
prayers for the king and those in authority under him are 
part of the daily service of our own. And for the day of 
his inauguration a particular service is appointed, which we 
are here assembled in the house of God to celebrate. This 
is the first duty we owe to kings, and those who are in autho- 
rity under them, that we make prayers and thanksgivings for 
them. And in it is comprehended, what yet may be con- 
sidered as another, paying them honour and reverence. 
Praying for them is itself an instance and expression of this, 
as it gives them a part in our highest solemnities. It also 
reminds us of that further honour and reverence which we 
are to pay them, as occasions offer, throughout the whole 
course of our behaviour. Fear God, honour the king* are 
apostolic precepts ; and despising government, and speaking 
evil of dignities,^ apostolic descriptions of such as are reserved 
* 1 Pet. ii. 17. f 2 Pet. ii. 10. 



the House of Lords. 



223 



unto the day of judgment to be punished* And if these evil 
speeches are so highly criminal, it cannot be a thing very- 
innocent to make a custom of entertaining ourselves with 
them. 

Further, if we are to pray, that we may, that it may be 
permitted us, to lead a quiet and peaceable life, we ought 
surely to live so, when, by means of a mild, equal govern- 
ment, it is permitted us ; and be very thankful, first to God, 
and then to those whom he makes the instruments of so great 
good to us, and pay them all obedience and duty ; though 
every thing be not conducted according to our judgment, 
nor every person in employment whom we may think de- 
serving of it. Indeed opposition, in a legal, regular way, 
to measures which a person thinks wrong, cannot but be 
allowed in a free government. It is in itself just, and also 
keeps up the spirit of liberty. But opposition, from in- 
direct motives, to measures which he sees to be necessary, is 
itself immoral : it keeps up the spirit of licentiousness ; is 
the greatest reproach of liberty, and in many ways most 
dangerous to it ; and has been a principal means of over- 
turning free governments. It is well too if the legal sub- 
jection to the government we live under, which may accom- 
pany such behaviour, be not the reverse of Christian subjec- 
tion ; subjection for wrath only, and not for conscience sake.* 
And one who wishes well to his country will beware how he 
inflames the common people against measures, whether right 
or wrong, which they are not judges of. For no one can 
foresee how far such disaffection will extend ; but every one 
sees, that it diminishes the reverence which is certainly 
owing to authority. Our due regards to these things are 
indeed instances of our loyalty, but they are in reality as 
much instances of our patriotism too. Happy the people 
who live under a prince, the justice of whose government 
renders them coincident. 

Lastly, As by the good providence of God we were born 
under a free government, and are members of a pure re- 
formed church, both of which he has wonderfully preserved 
through infinite dangers ; if we do not take heed to live like 
Christians, nor to govern ourselves with decency in those 
respects in which we are free, we shall be a dishonour to 
both. Both are most justly to be valued : but they may be 
valued in the wrong place. It is no more a recommendation 
* 2 Pet. ii. 9. f Rom. xiii. 5. 



224 A Sermon preached before the House of Lords, 

of civil, than it is of natural liberty,* that it must put us 
into a capacity of behaving ill. Let us then value our civil 
constitution, not because it leaves us the power of acting 
as mere humour and passion carry us, in those respects, in 
which governments less free lay men under restraints ; but 
for its equal laws, by which the great are disabled from 
oppressing those below them. Let us transfer, each of us, 
the equity of this our civil constitution to our whole per- 
sonal character ; and be sure to be as much afraid of subjec- 
tion to mere arbitrary will and pleasure in ourselves, as to 
the arbitrary will of others. For the tyranny of our own 
lawless passions is the nearest and most dangerous of all 
tyrannies. 

Then as to the other part of our constitution ; let us value 
it, not because it leaves us at liberty to have as little religion 
as we please, without being accountable to human judica- 
tories ; but because it affords us the means and assistances 
to worship God according to his word ; because it exhibits 
to our view, and enforces upon our conscience, genuine 
Christianity, free from the superstitions with which it is 
defiled in other countries. These superstitions naturally 
tend to abate its force : our profession of it in its purity is a 
particular call upon us to yield ourselves up to its full 
influence ; to be pure in heart ;f to be holy in all manner of 
conversation.^ Much of the form of godliness is laid aside 
amongst us : this itself should admonish us to attend more 
to the power thereof § We have discarded many burdensome 
ceremonies : let us be the more careful to cultivate inward 
religion. We have thrown off a multitude of superstitious 
practices, which were called good works : let us the more 
abound in all moral virtues, these being unquestionably 
such. Thus our lives will justify and recommend the re- 
formation ; and we shall adorn the doctrine of God our Sa- 
viour in all things. \\ 

* Natural liberty as opposed to necessity, or fate. 
+ Matt. v. 8. J 1 Pet. i. 15. § 2 Tim. iii. 5. || Titus ii. 10. 



225 



SERMON VI. 

PREACHED BEFORE HIS GRACE CHARLES DUKE OF RICHMOND, PRE- 
SIDENT, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY, FOll 
THE RELIEF OF SICK AND DISEASED PERSONS, ESPECIALLY MANU- 
FACTURERS, AND SEAMEN IN MERCHANT-SERVICE, &C. AT THE 
PARISH CHURCH OF ST. LAWRENCE-JEWRY, ON THURSDAY, MARCH 

31, 1748. 

And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves ; for charity 
shall cover the multitude of sins.—\ Pet. iv. 8. 

As we owe our being, and all our faculties, and the very 
opportunities of exerting them, to Almighty God, and are 
plainly his and not our own, we are admonished, even 
though we should have done all those things which are com- 
manded us, to say, We are unprofitable servants* And with 
much deeper humility must we make this acknowledgment, 
when we consider in how many things we have all offended.^ 
But still the behaviour of such creatures as men, highly 
criminal in some respects, may yet in others be such as to 
render them the proper objects of mercy, and, our Saviour 
does not decline saying, thought worthy of it.\ And, con- 
formably to our natural sense of things, the Scripture is very 
express, that mercy, forgiveness, and, in general, charity to 
our fellow-creatures, has this efficacy in a very high degree. 

Several copious and remote reasons have been alleged, 
why such pre-eminence is given to this grace or virtue ; 
some of great importance, and none of them perhaps with- 
out its weight. But the proper one seems to be very short 
and obvious, that by fervent charity, with a course of bene- 
ficence proceeding from it, a person may make amends for 
the good he has blamably omitted, and the injuries he has 
done, so far, as that society would have no demand upon 
him for such his misbehaviour ; nor consequently would 
justice have any in behalf of society, whatever it might have 
upon other accounts. Thus by fervent charity he may even 
merit forgiveness of men : and this seems to afford a very 
singular reason why it may be graciously granted him by 
God ; a very singular reason, the Christian covenant of 
pardon always supposed, why divine justice should permit, 
and divine mercy appoint, that such his charity should be 
allowed to cover the multitude of sins. 

* Luke xvii. 10. t James iii. 2. J Luke xx. 35. 

BUTLER. P 



226 



A Sermon preached before the 



And this reason leads me to observe, what Scripture and 
the whole nature of the thing shews, that the charity here 
meant must be such hearty love to our fellow-creatures, as 
produceth a settled endeavour to promote, according to the 
best of our judgment, their real lasting good, both present 
and future ; and not that easiness of temper, which with pe- 
culiar propriety is expressed by the word good-humour, and 
is a sort of benevolent instinct left to itself, without the direc- 
tion of our judgment. For this kind of good-humour is so 
far from making the amends before mentioned, that, though 
it be agreeable in conversation, it is often most mischievous 
in every other intercourse of life ; and always puts men out of 
a capacity of doing the good they might, if they could with- 
stand importunity, and the sight of distress, when the case 
requires they should be withstood ; many instances of which 
cases daily occur, both in public and private. Nor is it to be 
supposed, that we can any more promote the lasting good of 
our fellow-creatures, by acting from mere kind inclinations, 
without considering what are the proper means of promoting 
it, than that we can attain our own personal good, by a thought- 
less pursuit of every thing which pleases us. For the love 
of our neighbour, as much as self-love, the social affections, 
as much as the private ones, from their very nature, require 
to be under the direction of our judgment. Yet it is to be 
remembered, that it does in no sort become such a creature 
as man to harden himself against the distresses of his neigh- 
bour, except where it is really necessary ; and that even well- 
disposed persons may run into great perplexities, and great 
mistakes too, by being over-solicitous in distinguishing 
what are the most proper occasions for their charity, or who 
the greatest objects of it. And therefore, as on the one side 
we are obliged to take some care not to squander that which, 
one may say, belongs to the poor, as we shall do, unless we 
competently satisfy ourselves beforehand, that what we put 
to our account of charity will answer some good purpose ; so 
on the other side, when we are competently satisfied of this, 
in any particular instance before us, we ought by no means 
to neglect such present opportunity of doing good, under the 
notion of making further inquiries : for of these delays there 
will be no end. 

Having thus briefly laid before you the ground of that sin- 
gular efficacy, which the text ascribes to charity in general ; 
obviated the objection against its having this efficacy; and 



Governors of the London Infirmary. 227 

distinguished the virtue itself from its counterfeits ; let us 
now proceed to observe the genuineness and excellency of the 
particular charity, which we are here met together to pro- 
mote. 

Medicine and every other relief, under the calamity of 
bodily diseases and casualties, no less than the daily necessa- 
ries of life, are natural provisions, which God has made for 
our present indigent state; and which he has granted in 
common to the children of men, whether they be poor or rich : 
to the rich by inheritance, or acquisition ; and by their hands 
to the disabled poor. 

Nor can there be any doubt, but that public infirmaries 
are the most effectual means of administering such relief; 
besides that they are attended with incidental advantages of 
great importance : both which things have been fully shewn, 
and excellently enforced, in the annual sermons upon this 
and the like occasions. 

But indeed public infirmaries are not only the best, they 
are the only possible means by which the poor, especially in 
this city, can be provided, in any competent measure, with 
the several kinds of assistance, which bodily diseases and casu- 
alties require. Not to mention poor foreigners ; it is obvious 
no other provision can be made for poor strangers out of the 
country, when they are overtaken by these calamities, as they 
often must be, whilst they are occasionally attending their af- 
fairs in this centre of business. But even the poor who are 
settled here are in a manner strangers to the people amongst 
whom they live ; and, were it not for this provision, must un- 
avoidably be neglected, in the hurry and concourse around 
them, and be left unobserved to languish in sickness, and suffer 
extremely, much more than they could in less populous 
places; where every one is known to every one; and any 
great distress presently becomes the common talk ; and where 
also poor families are often under the particular protection of 
some or other of their rich neighbours, in a very different way 
from what is commonly the case here. Observations of this 
kind shew, that there is a peculiar occasion, and even a ne- 
cessity, in such a city as this, for public infirmaries, to which 
easy admittance may be had ; and here in ours no security is 
required, nor any sort of gratification allowed; and that they 
ought to be multiplied, or enlarged, proportionably to the 
increase of our inhabitants : for to this the increase of the 
poor will always bear proportion ; though less in ages of so- 

p2 



228 



A Sermon preached before the 



briety and diligence, and greater in ages of profusion and de- 
bauchery. 

Now though nothing, to be called an objection in the way 
of argument, can be alleged against thus providing for poor 
sick people, in the properest, indeed the only way in which 
they can be provided for; yet persons of too severe tempers 
can, even upon this occasion, talk in a manner, which, con- 
trary surely to their intention, has a very malignant influence 
upon the spirit of charity — talk of the ill-deserts of the poor, 
the good uses they might make of being let to suffer more 
than they do, under distresses which they bring upon them- 
selves, or however might, by diligence and frugality, provide 
against; and the idle uses they may make of knowing be- 
forehand that they shall be relieved in case of those distresses. 
Indeed there is such a thing as a prejudice against them, 
arising from their very state of poverty, which ought greatly 
to be guarded against; a kind of prejudice, to which per- 
haps most of us, upon some occasions, and in some degree, 
may inattentively be liable, but which pride and interest may 
easily work up to a settled hatred of them ; the utter reverse 
of that amiable part of the character of Job, that he was a 
father to the poor.* But it is undoubtedly fit, that such of 
them as are good and industrious should have the satisfaction 
of knowing beforehand, that they shall be relieved under 
diseases and casualties : and those, it is most obvious, ought 
to be relieved preferably to others. But these others, who 
are not of that good character, might possibly have the ap- 
prehension of those calamities in so great a degree, as would 
be very mischievous, and of no service, if they thought they 
must be left to perish under them. And though their idle- 
ness and extravagance are very inexcusable, and ought by all 
reasonable methods to be restrained ; and they are highly to 
be blamed for not making some provision against age and 
supposable disasters, when it is in their power; yet it is not to 
be desired, that the anxieties of avarice should be added to 
the natural inconveniences of poverty. 

It is said, that our common fault towards the poor is not 
harshness, but too great lenity and indulgence. And if al- 
lowing them in debauchery, idleness, and open beggary ; in 
drunkenness, profane cursing and swearing in our streets, nay 
in our houses of correction; if this be lenity, there is doubt- 
less a great deal too much of it. And such lenity towards 

* Job xxix. 16. 



Governors of the London Infirmary. 229 

the poor is very consistent with the most cruel neglects of 
them, in the extreme misery to which those vices reduce 
them. Now though this last certainly is not our general 
fault; yet it cannot be said every one is free from it. For 
this reason, and that nothing, which has so much as the 
shadow of an objection against our public charities, may be 
entirely passed over, you will give me leave to consider a 
little the supposed case above mentioned, though possibly 
some may think it unnecessary, that of persons reduced to 
poverty and distress by their own faults. 

Instances of this there certainly are. But it ought to be 
very distinctly observed, that in judging which are such, 
we are liable to be mistaken : and more liable to it, in judg- 
ing to what degree those are faulty, who really are so in 
some degree. However, we should always look with mild- 
ness upon the behaviour of the poor ; and be sure not to 
expect more from them than can be expected, in a moderate 
way of considering things. We should be forward not only 
to admit and encourage the good deserts of such as do well, 
but likewise as to those of them who do not, be ever ready 
to make due allowances for their bad education, or, which is 
the same, their having had none ; for what may be owing 
to the ill example of their superiors, as well as companions, 
and for temptations of all kinds. And remember always, that 
be men's vices what they will, they have not forfeited their 
claim to relief under necessities, till they have forfeited their 
lives to justice 

Our heavenly Father is kind to the unthankful and to the 
evil; and sendeth his rain on the just and on the unjust* And, 
in imitation of him, our Saviour expressly requires, that our 
beneficence be promiscuous. But we have moreover the 
divine example for relieving those distresses which are 
brought upon persons by their own faults ; and this is ex- 
actly the case we are considering. Indeed the general dis- 
pensation of Christianity is an example of this ; for its ge- 
neral design is to save us from our sins, and the punishments 
which would have been the just consequence of them. But 
the divine example in the daily course of nature is a more 
obvious and sensible one. And though the natural miseries 
which are foreseen to be annexed to a vicious course of life 
are providentially intended to prevent it, in the same manner 
as civil penalties are intended to prevent civil crimes ; yet 
* Matt. y. 45, Luke vi. 35, 



230 A Sermon preached before the 

those miseries, those natural penalties admit of and receive 
natural reliefs, no less than any other miseries, which could 
not have been foreseen or prevented. Charitable providence 
then, thus manifested in the course of nature, which is the 
example of our heavenly Father, most evidently leads us to 
relieve, not only such distresses as were unavoidable, but 
also such as people by their own faults have brought upon 
themselves. The case is, that we cannot judge in what de- 
gree it was intended they should suffer, by considering what, 
in the natural course of things, would be the whole bad con- 
sequences of their faults, if those consequences were not pre- 
vented, when nature has provided means to prevent great part 
of them. We cannot, for instance, estimate what degree of 
present sufferings God has annexed to drunkenness, by con- 
sidering the diseases which follow from this vice, as they 
would be if they admitted of no reliefs or remedies; but by 
considering the remaining misery of those diseases, after the 
application of such remedies as nature has provided. For as 
it is certain on the one side, that those diseases are providen- 
tial corrections of intemperance, it is as certain on the other, 
that the remedies are providential mitigations of those correc- 
tions; and altogether as much providential, when adminis- 
tered by the good hand of charity in the case of our neigh- 
bour, as when administered by self-love in our own. Thus 
the pain, and danger, and other distresses of sickness and 
poverty remaining, after all the charitable relief which can 
be procured; and the many uneasy circumstances which 
cannot but accompany that relief, though distributed with 
all supposable humanity ; these are the natural corrections 
of idleness and debauchery, supposing these vices brought 
on those miseries. And very severe corrections they are : 
and they ought not to be increased by withholding that 
relief, or by harshness in the distribution of it. Corrections 
of all kinds, even the most necessary ones, may easily exceed 
their proper bound: and when they do so, they become mis- 
chievous; and mischievous in the measure they exceed it. 
And the natural corrections which we have been speaking 
of would be excessive, if the natural mitigations provided for 
them were not administered. 

Then persons who are so scrupulously apprehensive of 
every thing which can possibly, in the most indirect manner, 
encourage idleness and vice (which, by the way, any thing 
may accidentally do), ought to turn their thoughts to the 



Governors of the London Infirmary, 



231 



moral and religious tendency of infirmaries. The religious 
i manner in which they are carried on has itself a direct ten- 
! dency to bring the subject of religion into the consideration 
of those whom they relieve ; and, in some degree, to recom- 
mend it to their love and practice, as it is productive of so 
much good to them, as restored ease and health, and a capa- 
city of resuming their several employments. It is to virtue 
and religion, they may mildly be admonished, that they are 
indebted for their relief. And this, amongst other admoni- 
tions of their spiritual guide, and the quiet and order of their 
house, out of the way of bad examples, together with a regu- 
lar course of devotion, which it were greatly to be wished 
might be daily; these means, it is to be hoped, with the com- 
mon grace of God, may enforce deeply upon their consciences 
those serious considerations, to which a state of affliction 
naturally renders the mind attentive, and that they will 
return, as from a religious retreat, to their several employ- 
ments in the world, with lasting impressions of piety in their 
hearts. By such united advantages, which these poor crea- 
tures can in no sort have any other way, very remarkable re- 
formations have been wrought. Persons of the strictest cha- 
racters therefore would give a more satisfactory proof, not to 
the world, but to their own consciences, of their desire to 
suppress vice and idleness, by setting themselves to cultivate 
the religious part of the institution of infirmaries, which, I 
think, would admit of great improvements ; than by allow- 
ing themselves to talk in a manner which tends to discounte- 
nance either the institution itself, or any particular branch 
of it. 

Admitting then the usefulness and necessity of these kinds 
of charity, which indeed cannot be denied ; yet every thing 
has its bounds. And, in the spirit of severity before men- 
tioned, it is imagined, that people are enough disposed, such, 
it seems, is the present turn, to contribute largely to them. 
And some, whether from dislike of the charities themselves, 
or from mere profligateness, think these formal recommenda- 
tions of them at church every year might very well be spared. 

But surely it is desirable, that a customary way should be 
kept open for removing prejudices as they may arise against 
these institutions; for rectifying any misrepresentations which 
may, at any time, be made of them ; and informing the pub- 
lic of any new emergencies ; as well as for repeatedly en- 
forcing the known obligations of charity, and the excellency 



232 A Sermon preached before the 

of this particular kind of it. Then sermons, you know, 
amongst Protestants, always of course accompany these more 
solemn appearances in the house of God : nor will these 
latter be kept up without the other. Now public devotions 
should ever attend and consecrate public charities. And it 
would be a sad presage of the decay of these charities, if ever 
they should cease to be professedly carried on in the fear of 
God, and upon the principles of religion. Jt may be added, 
that real charitable persons will approve of these frequent 
exhortations to charity, even though they should be consci- 
ous that they do not themselves stand in need of them, upon 
account of such as do. And such can possibly have no right 
to complain of being too often admonished of their duty, till 
they are pleased to practise it. It is true indeed, we have 
the satisfaction of seeing a spirit of beneficence prevail, in a 
very commendable degree, amongst all ranks of people, and 
in a very distinguished manner in some persons amongst the 
highest ; yet it is evident, too many of all ranks are very de- 
ficient in it, who are of great ability, and of whom much 
might be expected. Though every thing therefore were 
done in behalf of the poor which is wanted, yet these persons 
ought repeatedly to be told, how highly blamable they are 
for letting it be done without them ; and done by persons, of 
whom great numbers must have much less ability than they. 

But whoever can really think, that the necessities of the 
disabled poor are sufficiently provided for already, must be 
strangely prejudiced. If one were to send you to them 
themselves to be better informed, you would readily answer, 
that their demands would be very extravagant ; that persons 
are not to be their own judges in claims of justice, much less 
in those of charity. You then, I am speaking to the hard 
people above mentioned, you are to judge, what provision is 
to be made for the necessitous, so far as it depends upon 
your contributions. But ought you not to remember that 
you are interested, that you are parties in the affair as well 
as they. For is not the giver as really so as the receiver? 
And as there is danger that the receiver will err one way, is 
there not danger that the giver may err the other ? since it 
is not matter of arbitrary choice, which has no rule, but 
matter of real equity, to be considered as in the presence of 
God, what provision shall be made for the poor? And there- 
fore, though you are yourselves the only judges, what you 
will do in their behalf, for the case admits no other ; yet let 



Governors of the London Infirmary. 233 

me tell you, you will not be impartial, you will not be equi- 
table judges, until you have guarded against the influence 
which interest is apt to have upon your judgment, and culti- 
vated within you the spirit of charity to balance it. Then 
you will see the various remaining necessities which call for 
relief. But that there are many such must be evident at first 
sight to the most careless observer, were it only from hence, 
that both this and the other hospitals are often obliged to 
reject poor objects which offer, even for want of room, or 
wards to contain them. 

Notwithstanding many persons have need of these admo- 
nitions, yet there is a good spirit of beneficence, as I observed, 
pretty generally prevailing. And I must congratulate you 
upon the great success it has given to the particular good 
work before us; great, I think, beyond all example for the 
time it has subsisted. Nor would it be unsuitable to the 
present occasion to recount the particulars of this success. 
For the necessary accommodations which have been provided, 
and the numbers who have been relieved, in so short a time, 
cannot but give high reputation to the London Infirmary. 
And the reputation of any particular charity, like credit in 
trade, is so much real advantage, without the inconveniences 
to which that is sometimes liable. It will bring in contribu- 
tions for its support ; and men of character, as they shall be 
wanted, to assist in the management of it ; men of skill in the 
professions, men of conduct in business, to perpetuate, im- 
prove, and bring it to perfection. So that you, the contri- 
butors to this charity, and more especially those of you by 
whose immediate care and economy it is in so high repute, 
are encouraged to go on with your labour of love* not only 
by the present good, which you see is here done, but like- 
wise by the prospect of what will probably be done, by your 
means, in future times, when this infirmary shall become, as 
I hope it will, no less renowned than the city in which it is 
established. 

But to see how far it is from being yet complete, for want 
of contributions, one need only look upon the settled rules 
of the house for admission of patients. See there the limita- 
tions which necessity prescribes, as to the persons to be ad- 
mitted. Read but that one order, though others might be 
mentioned, that none who are judged to be in an asthmatic, 
consumptive, or dying condition be admitted on any account 

* Heb. vi. 10. 



234 



A Sermon preached before the 



whatsoever. Harsh as these words sound, they proceed out 
of the mouth of Charity herself. Charity pronounces it to 
be better, that poor creatures, who might receive much ease 
and relief, should be denied it, if their case does not admit 
of recovery, rather than that others, whose case does admit 
of it, be left to perish. But it shocks humanity to hear such 
an alternative mentioned ; and to think, that there should be 
a necessity, as there is at present, for such restrictions, in one 
of the most beneficent and best managed schemes in the 
world. May more numerous or larger contributions, at 
length, open a door to such as these ; that what renders their 
case in the highest degree compassionable, their languishing 
under incurable diseases, may no longer exclude them from 
the house of mercy. 

But besides the persons to whom I have been now more 
particularly speaking, there are others, who do not cast about 
for excuses for not contributing to the relief of the necessitous ; 
perhaps are rather disposed to relieve them ; who yet are not 
so careful as they ought to be, to put themselves into a 
capacity of doing it. For we are as really accountable for 
not doing the good which we might have in our power to do, 
if we would manage our affairs with prudence, as we are for 
not doing the good which is in our power now at present. 
And hence arise the obligations of economy upon people in 
the highest, as well as in the lower stations of life, in order 
to enable themselves to do that good, which, without economy, 
both of them must be incapable of ; even though without it 
they could answer the strict demands of justice ; which yet 
we find neither of them can. A good man sheweth favour, 
and lendeth ; and, to enable himself to do so, he will guide his 
affairs with discretion* For want of this, many a one has 
reduced his family to the necessity of asking relief from those 
public charities, to which he might have left them in a con- 
dition of largely contributing. 

As economy is the duty of all persons, without exception, 
frugality and diligence are duties which particularly belong 
to the middle as well as lower ranks of men ; and more par- 
ticularly still to persons in trade and commerce, whatever their 
fortunes be. For trade and commerce cannot otherwise be 
carried on, but is plainly inconsistent with idleness and pro- 
fusion : though indeed were it only from regard to propriety, 
and to avoid being absurd, every one should conform his 

* Psalm cxii. 5. 



Governors of the London Injirmary. 235 

behaviour to what his situation in life requires, without which 
the order of society must be broken in upon. And consider- 
ing how inherited riches and a life of leisure are often em- 
ployed, the generality of mankind have cause to be thankful 
that their station exempts them from so great temptations ; 
that it engages them in a sober care of their expenses, and 
in a course of application to business : especially as these 
virtues, moreover, tend to give them, what is an excellent 
groundwork for all others, a stayed equality of temper and 
command of their passions. But when a man is diligent and 
frugal, in order to have it in his power to do good ; when 
he is more industrious, or more sparing perhaps than his cir- 
cumstances necessarily require, that he may have to give to 
him that needeth ; # when he labours in order to support the 
weak if such care of his affairs is itself charity, and the actual 
beneficence which it enables him to practise is additional 
charity. 

You will easily see why I insist thus upon these things, 
because I would particularly recommend the good work 
before us to all ranks of people in this great city. And I 
think I have reason to do so, from the consideration, that it 
very particularly belongs to them to promote it. The gospel 
indeed teaches us to look upon every one in distress as our 
neighbour, yet neighbourhood in the literal sense, and like- 
wise several other circumstances, are providential recom- 
mendations of such and such charities, and excitements to 
them ; without which the necessitous would suffer much 
more than they do at present. For our general disposition 
to beneficence would not be sufficiently directed, and in other 
respects would be very ineffectual, if it were not called forth 
into action by some or other of those providential circum- 
stances, which form particular relations between the rich and 
the poor, and are of course regarded by every one in some 
degree. But though many persons among you, both in the 
way of contributions, and in other ways no less useful, have 
done even more than was to be expected, yet I must be 
allowed to say, that I do not think the relation the inhabitants 
of this city bear to the persons for whom our infirmary was 
principally designed, is sufficiently attended to by the gene- 
rality | which may be owing to its late establishment. It is, 
you know, designed principally for diseased manufacturers, 
seamen in merchant-service, and their wives and children : and 
* Ephes. iv. 28. + Acts xx. 35. 



236 



A Sermon preached before the 



poor manufacturers comprehend all who are employed in any 
labour whatever belonging to trade and commerce, The 
description of these objects shews their relation, and a very 
near one it is, to you, my neighbours, the inhabitants of this 
city. If any of your domestic servants were disabled by sick- 
ness, there is none of you but would think himself bound to 
do somewhat for their relief. Now these seamen and manu- 
facturers are employed in your immediate business. They 
are servants of merchants, and other principal traders ; as 
much your servants as if they lived under your roof : though 
by their not doing so, the relation is less in sight. And sup- 
posing they do not all depend upon traders of lower rank in 
exactly the same manner, yet many of them do ; and they 
have all connexions with you, which give them a claim to 
your charity preferably to strangers. They are indeed ser- 
vants of the public ; and so are all industrious poor people 
as well as they. But that does not hinder the latter from 
being more immediately yours. And as their being servants 
to the public is a general recommendation of this charity to 
all other persons, so their being more immediately yours is, 
surely, a particular recommendation of it to you. Notwith- 
standing all this, I will not take upon me to say, that every 
one of you is blamable who does not contribute to your in- 
firmary, for yours it is in a peculiar sense ; but I will say, 
that those of you who do are highly commendable. I will say 
more, that you promote a very excellent work, which your 
particular station is a providential call upon you to promote. 
And there can be no stronger reason than this for doing any 
thing, except the one reason, that it would be criminal to 
omit it. 

These considerations, methinks, might induce every trader 
of higher rank in this city to become a subscriber to the 
infirmary which is named from it ; and others of you to con- 
tribute somewhat yearly to it, in the way in which smaller 
contributions are given. This would be a most proper offer- 
ing out of your increase to him, whose blessing maketh rich* 
Let it be more or less, every man according as he purposeth 
in his heart ; not grudgingly, or of necessity : for God loveth 
a cheerful giver. f 

The large benefactions of some persons of ability may be 
necessary in the first establishment of a public charity, and 
are greatly useful afterwards in maintaining it : but the ex- 
* Prov. x. 22. t 2 Cor. ix. 7. 



Governors of the London Infirmary. 237 

penses of this before us, in the extent and degree of perfec- 
tion to which one would hope it might be brought, cannot 
be effectually supported, any more than the expenses of civil 
government, without the contribution of great numbers. You 
have already the assistance of persons of highest rank and 
fortune, of which the list of our governors, and the present 
appearance, are illustrious examples. And their assistance 
would be far from lessening by a general contribution to it 
amongst yourselves. On the contrary, the general contribu- 
tion to it amongst yourselves, which I have been proposing, 
would give it still higher repute, and more invite such 
persons to continue their assistance, and accept the honour 
of being in its direction. For the greatest persons receive 
honour from taking the direction of a good work, as they 
likewise give honour to it. And by these concurrent en- 
deavours, our infirmary might at length be brought to answer, 
in some competent measure, to the occasions of our city. 

Blessed are they who employ their riches in promoting so 
excellent a design. The temporal advantages of them are 
far from coming up, in enjoyment, to what they promise at 
a distance. But the distinguished privilege, the prerogative 
of riches, is, that they increase our power of doing good. 
This is their proper use. In proportion as men make this 
use of them, they imitate Almighty God ; and co-operate 
together with him in promoting the happiness of the world ; 
and may expect the most favourable judgment, which their 
case will admit of, at the last day, upon the general, repeated 
maxim of the gospel, that we shall then be treated ourselves 
as we now treat others. They have moreover the prayers 
of all good men, those of them particularly whom they have 
befriended ; and, by such exercise of charity, they improve 
within themselves the temper of it, which is the very temper 
of heaven. Consider next the peculiar force with which 
this branch of charity, almsgiving, is recommended to us in 
these words ; He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto 
the Lord:* and in these of our Saviour, Verily I say unto 
you, Inasmuch as ye have done it, relieved the sick and 
needy, unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done 
it unto me.^ Beware you do not explain away these pas- 
sages of Scripture, under the notion, that they have been 
made to serve superstitious purposes : but ponder them fairly 
in your heart ; and you will feel them to be of irresistible 
* Prov. xix. 17. -f Matt. xxv. 40. 



238 A Sermon, §c. 

weight. Lastly, let us remember, in how many instances we 
have all left undone those things which we ought to have 
done, and done those things which we ought not to have 
done. Now whoever has a serious sense of this will most 
earnestly desire to supply the good, which he was obliged 
to have done, but has not, and undo the evil which he has 
done, or neglected to prevent ; and when that is impracti- 
cable, to make amends, in some other way for his offences 

1 can mean only to our fellow- creatures. To make 

amends, in some way or other, to a particular person, against 
whom we have offended, either by positive injury, or by 
neglect ; is an express condition of our obtaining forgiveness 
of God, when it is in our power to make it. And when it 
is not, surely the next best thing is to make amends to society 
by fervent charity, in a course of doing good : which riches, 
as I observed, put very much within our power. 

How unhappy a choice then do those rich men make, who 
sacrifice all these high prerogatives of their state, to the 
wretched purposes of dissoluteness and vanity, or to the 
sordid itch of heaping up, to no purpose at all ; whilst in 
the mean time they stand charged with the important trust, 
in which they are thus unfaithful, and of which a strict 
account remains to be given ! 



A 

CHARGE 

DELIVERED TO 

THE CLERGY 

AT THE 

PRIMARY VISITATION OF THE DIOCESS OF DURHAM, 

IN THE YEAR MDCCLI.* 



It is impossible for me, my brethren, upon our first meeting 
of this kind, to forbear lamenting with you the general decay 
of religion in this nation ; which is now observed by every 
one, and has been for some time the complaint of all serious 
persons. The influence of it is more and more wearing out 
of the minds of men, even of those who do not pretend to 
enter into speculations upon the subject : but the number of 
those who do, and who profess themselves unbelievers, in- 
creases, and with their numbers their zeal. Zeal, it is natural 
to ask — for what? Why truly for nothing, but against 
every thing that is good and sacred amongst us. 

Indeed, whatever efforts are made against our religion, no 
Christian can possibly despair of it. For he, who has all 
power in heaven and earth, has promised, that he will be with 
us to the end of the world. Nor can the present decline of 
it be any stumbling-bloek to such as are considerate ; since 
he himself has so strongly expressed what is as remarkably 
predicted in other passages of Scripture, the great defection 
from his religion which should be in the latter days, by that 
prophetic question, When the Son of man cometh, shall he find 
faith upon the earth? How near this time is, God only 
knows; but this kind of Scripture signs of it is too apparent. 

* The publication of Bishop Butler's Charge, in the year 1751 , was fol- 
lowed by a pamphlet, printed in 1752, entitled, "';A Serious Inquiry into 
the Use and Importance of External Religion, occasioned by some pas- 
sages in the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Durham's Charge to the 
Clergy of that Diocess, &c. humbly addressed to his Lordship." This 
pamphlet has been reprinted in a miscellaneous work : such parts of it as 
seemed most worthy of observation, the reader will find in the following 
notes upon those passages of the Charge to which the pamphlet refers. 



240 



Charge to the 



For as different ages have been distinguished by different 
sorts of particular errors and vices, the deplorable distinc- 
tion of ours is an avowed scorn of religion in some, and a 
growing disregard to it in the generality. 

As to the professed enemies of religion, I know not how 
often they may come in your way ; but often enough, I fear, 
in the way of some at least amongst you, to require conside- 
ration, what is the proper behaviour towards them. One 
would, to be sure, avoid great familiarities with these per- 
sons ; especially if they affect to be licentious and profane in 
their common talk. Yet if you fall into their company, treat 
them with the regards which belong to their rank ; for so 
we must people who are vicious in any other respect. We 
should study what St. James, with wonderful elegance and 
expressiveness, calls meekness of ivisdom, in our behaviour 
towards all men ; but more especially towards these men ; 
not so much as being what we owe to them, but to ourselves 
and our religion ; that we may adorn the doctrine of God our 
Saviour, in our carriage towards those who labour to vilify it. 

For discourse with them ; the caution commonly given, 
not to attempt answering objections which we have not con- 
sidered, is certainly just. Nor need any one in a particular 
case be ashamed frankly to acknowledge his ignorance, pro- 
vided it be not general. And though it were, to talk of what 
he is not acquainted with, is a dangerous method of endea- 
vouring to conceal it. But a considerate person, however 
qualified he be to defend his religion, and answer the objec- 
tions he hears made against it, may sometimes see cause to 
decline that office. Sceptical and profane men are extremely 
apt to bring up this subject at meetings of entertainment, and 
such as are of the freer sort : innocent ones I mean, other- 
wise I should not suppose you would be present at them. 
Now religion is by far too serious a matter to be the hackney 
subject upon these occasions. And by preventing its being 
made so, you will better secure the reverence which is due to 
it, than by entering into its defence. Every one observes, 
that men's having examples of vice often before their eyes, 
familiarizes it to the mind, and has a tendency to take off 
that just abhorrence of it which the innocent at first felt, even 
though it should not alter their judgment of vice, or make 
them really believe it to be less evil or dangerous. In like 
manner, the hearing religion often disputed about in light 
familiar conversation has a tendency to lessen that sacred 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 241 



regard to it, which a good man would endeavour always to 
keep up, both in himself and others. But this is not all: 
people are too apt inconsiderately to take for granted, that 
things are really questionable, because they hear them often 
disputed. This indeed is so far from being a consequence, 
that we know demonstrated truths have been disputed, and 
even matters of fact, the objects of our senses. But were it 
a consequence, were the evidence of religion no more than 
doubtful, then it ought not to be concluded false any more 
than true, nor denied any more than affirmed ; for suspense 
would be the reasonable state of mind with regard to it. 
And then it ought in all reason, considering its infinite im- 
portance, to have nearly the same influence upon practice, 
as if it were thoroughly believed. For would it not be mad- 
ness for a man to forsake a safe road, and prefer to it one in 
which he acknowledges there is an even chance he should 
lose his life, though there were an even chance likewise of 
his getting safe through it ? Yet there are people absurd 
enough, to take the supposed doubtfulness of religion for the 
same thing as a proof of its falsehood, after they have con- 
cluded it doubtful from hearing it often called in question. 
This shews how infinitely unreasonable sceptical men are, 
with regard to religion, and that they really lay aside their 
reason upon this subject as much as the most extravagant 
enthusiasts. But further, cavilling and objecting upon any 
subject is much easier than clearing up difficulties : and this 
last part will always be put upon the defenders of religion. 
Now a man may be fully convinced of the truth of a matter, 
and upon the strongest reasons, and yet not be able to answer 
all the difficulties which may be raised upon it. 

Then again, the general evidence of religion is complex 
and various. It consists of a long series of things, one pre- 
paratory to and confirming another, from the very beginning 
of the world to the present time. And it is easy to see how 
impossible it must be, in a cursory conversation, to unite all 
this into one argument, and represent it as it ought ; and, 
could it be done, how utterly indisposed people would be to 
attend to it — I say in a cursory conversation : whereas un- 
connected objections are thrown out in a few words, and are 
easily apprehended, without more attention than is usual in 
1 common talk. So that, notwithstanding we have the best 
cause in the world, and though a man were very capable of 
defending it, yet I know not why he should be forward to 

BUTLER. Q 



242 



Charge to the 



undertake it upon so great a disadvantage, and to so little 
good effect, as it must be done amidst the gaiety and care- 
lessness of common conversation. 

But then it will be necessary to be very particularly upon 
your guard, that you may not seem, by way of compliance, to 
join in with any levity of discourse respecting religion. Nor 
would one let any pretended argument against it pass entirely 
without notice ; nor any gross ribaldry upon it, without ex- 
pressing our thorough disapprobation. This last may some- 
times be done by silence : for silence sometimes is very ex- 
pressive ; as was that of our blessed Saviour before the San- 
hedrim and before Pilate. Or it may be done by observing 
mildly, that religion deserves another sort of treatment, or a 
more thorough consideration, than such a time, or such cir- 
cumstances admit. However, as it is absolutely necessary, 
that we take care, by diligent reading and study, to be always 
prepared, to be ready always to give an answer to every man 
that asketh a reason of the hope that is in as ; so there may be 
occasions when it will highly become us to do it. And then 
we must take care to do it in the spirit which the apostle re- 
quires, with meekness and fear:* meekness towards those who 
give occasions for entering into the defence of our religion ; 
and with fear, not of them, but of God ; with that reveren- 
tial fear, which the nature of religion requires, and which is 
so far from being inconsistent with, that it will inspire proper 
courage towards men. Now this reverential fear will lead 
us to insist strongly upon the infinite greatness of God's 
scheme of government, both in extent and duration, together 
with the wise connexion of its parts, and the impossibility of 
accounting fully for the several parts, without seeing the 
whole plan of Providence to which they relate ; which is 
beyond the utmost stretch of our understanding. And to all 
this must be added the necessary deficiency of human lan- 
guage, when things divine are the subject of it. These ob- 
servations are a proper full answer to many objections, and 
very material with regard to all. 

But your standing business, and which requires constant 
attention, is with the body of the people ; to revive in them 
the spirit of religion, which is so much declining. And it 
may seem, that whatever reason there be for caution as 
to entering into an argumentative defence of religion in com- 
mon conversation, yet that it is necessary to do this from the 

* 1 Pet. iii. 15. 



Clergy of Durham , 1751. 



243 



pulpit, in order to guard the people against being corrupted, 
however in some places. But then surely it should be done 
in a manner as little controversial as possible. For though 
such as are capable of seeing the force of objections are capa- 
ble also of seeing the force of the answers which are given to 
them ; yet the truth is, the people will not competently attend 
to either. But it is easy to see which they will attend to 
most. And to hear religion treated of as what many deny, 
and which has much said against it as well as for it ; this 
cannot but have a tendency to give them ill impressions at 
any time ; and seems particularly improper for all persons at 
a time of devotion ; even for such as are arrived at the most 
settled state of piety : I say at a time of devotion, when we 
are assembled to yield ourselves up to the full influence of 
the Divine Presence, and to call forth into actual exercise 
every pious affection of heart. For it is to be repeated, that 
the heart and course of affections may be disturbed when there 
is no alteration of judgment. Now the evidence of religion 
may be laid before men without any air of controversy. The 
proof of the being of God, from final causes, or the design 
and wisdom which appears in every part of nature ; to- 
gether with the law of virtue written upon our hearts :* the 

* The author of the Inquiry, mentioned above, informs us, in his post- 
script, that " the certain consequence of referring mankind to a law of na- 
ture, or virtue, written upon their hearts, is their having recourse to their 
own sense of things on all occasions ; which being, in a great majority, no 
better than family superstition, party-prejudice, or self-interested artifice 
(perhaps a compound of all), will be too apt to overrule the plain precepts 
of the gospel." And he declares, he has " no better opinion of the clear- 
ness, certainty, uniformity, universality, &c. of this law, than" he has " of 
the importance of external religion' 1 What then must we say to St. Paul, 
who not only asserts, in the strongest terms, the reality of such a law, but 
speaks of its obligation as extending to all mankind ? blaming some among 
the Gentiles as without excuse, for not adverting to and obeying it ; and 
commending others for doing by nature (in contradistinction to revelation) 
the things contained in the law, thus shewing the work of the law writtenin their 
hearts. If, because "natural religion is liable to be mistaken, it is high 
time to have done with it in the pulpit ;" how comes it that the same 
apostle refers the Philippians to the study of this religion, to whatsoever 
things are true, honest, just, lovely, and of good report? And yet, without 
such a study, our knowledge of the moral law must always remain imper- 
fect ; for a complete system of morality is certainly no where to be found 
either in the Old or New Testament.f When a Christian minister is en- 
forcing the duties or doctrines of revealed religion, he may perhaps do 
well to " tell his people he has no other proof of the original, truth, obli- 
gations, present benefits and future rewards of religion, to lay before them, 

fSee the second of Dr Balguy's Charges. 
Q 2 



244 



Charge to the 



proof of Christianity from miracles, and the accomplishment of 
prophecies ; and the confirmation which the natural and civil 
history of the world give to the Scripture account of things : 
these evidences of religion might properly be insisted on, in a 
way to affect and influence the heart, though there were no 
professed unbelievers in the world ; and therefore may be 
insisted on, without taking much notice that there are such. 
And even their particular objections may be obviated with- 
out a formal mention of them. Besides, as to religion in 
general, it is a practical thing, and no otherwise a matter of 
speculation, than common prudence in the management of 
our worldly affairs is so. And if one were endeavouring to 
bring a plain man to be more careful with regard to this last, 
it would be thought a strange method of doing it, to perplex 
him with stating formally the several objections which men 
of gaiety or speculation have made against prudence, and 
the advantages which they pleasantly tell us folly has over 
it ; though one could answer those objections ever so fully. 
Nor does the want of religion in the generality of the com- 

than what is contained in the Scriptures." But what if his purpose be to 
inculcate some moral virtue ? Will it not be useful here, besides observ- 
ing that the practice of that virtue is enjoined by a divine command, to re- 
commend it still further to his hearers, by shewing that it approves itself 
to our inward sense and perception, and accords with the native sentiments 
and suggestions of our minds? Metaphysicians may say what they will of 
our feelings of this sort being all illusive, liable to be perverted by educa- 
tion and habit, and judged of by men's own sense of things ; they, whose 
understandings are yet unspoiled by philosophy and vain deceit, will be little 
disposed to listen to such assertions. Nor are there wanting arguments 
which prove, and, as should seem, to the satisfaction of every reasonable 
inquirer, that the great and leading principles of moral duties have in all 
ages been the same ; that such virtues as benevolence, justice, compassion, 
gratitude, accidental obstacles removed, and when the precise meaning of 
the words has been once explained, are instinctively known and approved 
by all men ; and that our approbation of these is as much a part of our 
nature implanted in us by God, and as little liable to caprice and fashion, 
as the sense of seeing, given us also by him, by which all bodies appear to 
us in an erect, and not an inverted position.* Mr. Locke's authority has 
been generally looked up to as decisive on such questions ; and his senti- 
ments have been embraced implicitly, and without examination. That 
great and good man, however, is not to be charged with the pernicious 
consequences which others have drawn from his opinions : consequences 
which have been carried to such a length, as to destroy all moral difference 
of human actions; making virtue and vice altogether arbitrary; calling 
evit good, and good evil; putting darkness for light, and light for darkness; 
putting bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. 

* See the third of Bishop Hurd's Sermons, vol. i. 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 



245 



inon people appear owing to a speculative disbelief or denial 
of it, but chiefly to thoughtlessness and the common tempta- 
tions of life. Your chief business therefore is to endeavour to 
beget a practical sense of it upon their hearts, as what they 
acknowledge their belief of, and profess they ought to con- 
form themselves to. And this is to be done by keeping up, 
as we are able, the form and face of religion with decency and 
reverence, and in such a degree as to bring the thoughts of 
religion often to their minds ;* and then endeavouring to 
make this form more and more subservient to promote the 
reality and power of it. The form of religion may indeed be 
where there is little of the thing itself; but the thing itself 
cannot be preserved amongst mankind without the form.f 
And this form frequently occurring in some instance or other 
of it will be a frequent admonition to bad men to repent, 

* To this it is said by our inquirer, that " the clergy of the church of Eng- 
land have no way of keeping up the form and face of religion, any oftener, 
or in any other degree, than is directed by the prescribed order of the 
church." As if the whole duty of a parish priest consisted in reading 
prayers and a sermon on Sundays, and performing the occasional offices 
appointed in the liturgy ! One would think the writer who made this objec- 
tion had never read more of the Charge than the four pages he has parti- 
cularly selected for the subject of his animadversions. Had he looked 
further, he would have found other methods recommended to the clergy,, 
of introducing a sense of religion into the minds of their parishioners which 
occur much oftener than the times allotted for the public services of the 
church : such as family prayers ; acknowledging the divine bounty at our 
meals; personal applications from ministers of parishes to individuals un- 
der their care, on particular occasions and circumstances : as at the time 
of confirmation, at first receiving the holy communion, on recovery from 
sickness, and the like ; none of which are prescribed in our established 
ritual, any more than those others so ludicrously mentioned by this writer, 
" bowing to the east, turning the face to that quarter in repeating the creeds, 
dipping the finger in water, and therewith crossing the child's forehead 
in baptism." 

-f The quakers reject all forms, even the two of Christ's own institution: 
will it be said, that " these men have no religion preserved among them?" 
It will neither be said nor insinuated. The quakers, though they have 
not the form, are careful to keep up the face of religion ; as appears, not 
only from the custom of assembling themselves for the purposes of public 
worship on the Lord's day, but from their silent meetings on other days 
of the week. And that they are equally sensible of the importance of 
maintaining the influence of religion on their minds, is manifest from the 
practice of what they call inward prayer, in conformity to the direction of 
Scripture to pray continually : " which," saith Robert Barclay, " cannot be 
understood of outward prayer, because it were impossible that men should 
be always upon their knees, expressing the words of prayer; which would 
hinder them from the exercise of those duties no less positively com- 
manded." Apology for the Quakers, Prop. xi. Of Worship. 



246 



Charge to the 



and to good men to grow better ; and also be the means of 

their doing so.* 



That which men have accounted religion in the several 
countries of the world, generally speaking, has had a great 
and conspicuous part in all public appearances, and the face 
of it been kept up with great reverence throughout all ranks, 
from the highest to the lowest; not only upon occasional 
solemnities, but also in the daily course of behaviour. In the 
heathen world, their superstition was the chief subject of sta- 
tuary, sculpture, painting, and poetry. It mixed itself with 
business, civil forms, diversions, domestic entertainments, and 
every part of common life. The Mahometans are obliged to 
short devotions five times between morning and evening. In 
Roman Catholic countries, people cannot pass a day without 
having religion recalled to their thoughts, by some or other 
memorial of it; by some ceremony or public religious form oc- 
curring in their way-.f besides their frequent holydays, the 

* Here it has been objected, that " the number, variety, and frequent 
occurrence of forms in religion, are too apt to be considered by the genera- 
lity as commutations for their vices, as something substituted in lieu of re- 
pentance, as loads and encumbrances upon true Christian edification." 
This way of arguing against the use of a thing from the abuse of it, instead 
of arguing from the nature of the thing itself, is the master sophism that 
pervades the whole performance we are here examining. What rea- 
sonable man ever denied, that the pomp of outward worship has been 
sometimes mistaken for inward piety? that positive institutions, when 
rested in as ends, instead of being applied as means, are hurtful to the 
interests of true religion ? Not Bishop Butler certainly, who blames the 
observances of the papists on this account, some of them as being " in 
themselves wrong and superstitious ;" and others, as being " made sub- 
servient to the purposes of superstition," and for this reason " abolished 
by our reformers." In the mean while, it will still be true, that bodily wor- 
ship is by no means to be discarded, as unuseful in exciting spiritual de- 
votion ; on the contrary, that they mutually assist and strengthen each 
other; and that a mere mental intercourse with God, and a religious ser- 
vice purely intellectual, is altogether unsuitable to such a creature as 
man, during his present state on earth. 

f "What in the former period" (when speaking of the heathen world) 
<{ was called superstition, becomes in this" (when speaking of Roman Ca- 
tholics) " religion, and religious forms ; which the papists pretending to con- 
nect with Christianity, and the Charge giving no hint that this is no more 
than a pretence, a plain reader must needs take this as spoken of the 
means and memorials of true religion, and will accordingly consider these as 
recommended to his practice and imitation." If a plain reader, at first 
view of the passage alluded to, should inadvertently fall into such a mis- 
take, he would find that mistake immediately corrected by the very next 
sentence that follows, where the religion of the Roman Catholics, and their 
superstition, are distinguished from each other in express words. But the 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 



247 



short prayers they are daily called to, and the occasional de- 
votion enjoined by confessors. By these means their super- 
stition sinks deep into the minds of the people, and their reli- 
gion also into the minds of such among them as are serious 
and well-disposed. Our reformers, considering that some of 
these observances were in themselves wrong and superstitious, 
and others of them made subservient to the puposes of super- 
stition, abolished them, reduced the form of religion to great 
simplicity, and enjoined no more particular rules, nor left any 
thing more of what was external in religion, than was in a 
I manner necessary to preserve a sense of religion itself upon 
the minds of the people. But a great part of this is neg- 
lected by the generality amongst us ; for instance, the service 
of the church, not only upon common days, but also upon 
saints' days; and several other things might be mentioned. 
Thus they have no customary admonition, no public call to 
recollect the thoughts of God and religion from one Sunday 
to another. 

It was far otherwise under the law. These words* says 
Moses to the children of Israel, which I command thee, shall 
be in thine heart: and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy 
children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine 
house, and when thou ivalkest by the way, and when thou liest 

terms in question are used with the strictest propriety. The design of 
the bishop, in this part of his Charge, is to consider religion, not under 
the notion of its being true, but as it affects the senses and imaginations 
of the multitude. For so the paragraph begins: " That which men have 
accounted religion in the several countries of the world" (whether the re- 
ligion be true or false is beside his present argument), " generally speak- 
ing, has had a great and conspicuous part in all public appearances." 
This position he illustrates by three examples, the Heathen, the Maho- 
metan, and the Roman Catholic religions. The two first of these, having 
little or nothing of true religion belonging to them, may well enough be 
characterized under the common name of superstition : the last contains a 
mixture of both; which therefore the bishop, like a good writer, as well 
as a justreasoner, is careful to distinguish. In Roman Catholic countries, 
a man can hardly travel a mile without passing a crucifix erected on the 
road side : he may either stop to worship the image represented on the 
cross, or he may simply be reminded by it of his own relation to Christ 
crucified; thus by one and the same outward sign " religion may be re- 
called to his thoughts," or superstition may take possession of his mind. 
In the celebration of the eucharist, the elements of bread and wine are re- 
garded by a papist as the very body and blood of Christ ; to a protestant, 
they appear only as symbols and memorials of that body and blood : what 
in one is an act of rational devotion, becomes in the other an instance of 
the grossest superstition, if not idolatry. 

* Deut. vi. 6, 7. 



248 



Charge to the 



down, and when thou risest up* And as they were com- 
manded this, so it is obvious how much the constitution of 
that law was adapted to effect it, and keep religion ever in 
view. And without somewhat of this nature, piety will grow 
languid even among the better sort of men ; and the worst 
will go on quietly in an abandoned course, with fewer inter- 
ruptions from within than they would have, were religious re- 
flections forced oftener upon their minds, j* and consequently 

* Allowing that " what Moses in this passage wanted to have effected 
was obedience to the moral law," nothing, sure, could be of greater use in 
securing that obedience than the practice here enjoined. Our inquirer, 
however, is of a different opinion, and " very much questions whether his 
lordship could have fallen upon any passage in the Old Testament, which 
relates at all to his subject, that would have been less favourable to his 
argument." Who shall decide, &c. ? — The bishop goes on, " As they (the 
Jews) were commanded this, so it is obvious how much the constitution of 
their law was adapted to effect it, and keep religion ever in view." Upon 
which the inquirer remarks, " It was then very ill, or at least very unwisely 
done, to abrogate that law, whose constitution was adapted to so excel- 
lent a purpose." Let us first see what may be offered in defence of the 
bishop, and then consider what is to be said in answer to his opponent. 
The purpose for which the Mosaic constitution was established was this : 
to preserve, amidst a world universally addicted to polytheism and idol- 
atry, the great doctrine of the Unity of the Divine Nature, till the seed 
should come to whom the 'promise was made. As a means to this end, the 
Israelites were not only to be kept separate from every other nation ; but, 
the better to ensure such separation, they were to be constantly employed 
in a multifarious ritual, which left them neither time nor opportunity for 
deviating into the superstitious observances of their pagan neighbours. 
And this, I suppose, may suffice for vindicating the bishop's assertion, 
that " the constitution of the Jewish law was adapted to keep religion ever 
in view." But the Jewish law was not only adapted to this end ; we are 
next to observe, that the end itself was actually gained. For though it be 
too notorious to be denied, that the Jews did not always confine their re- 
ligious homage to the God of Israel, but polluted the service, due to him 
alone, with foreign worship ; yet, even in their worst defection, it should 
be remembered, they never totally ^rejected the true Jehovah; and after 
their return from captivity, they were so thoroughly cured of all remain- 
ing propensity to the idolatrous rites of heathenism, as never again to vio- 
late their allegiance to the God of their fathers. It appears then, that, in 
consequence of the Jewish separation, the principle of the Unity was in fact 
preserved inviolate among that people till the coming of Christ. When the 
Mosaic constitution had thus attained its end, and mankind were now 
prepared for the reception of a better covenant, the law expired of course ; 
the partition wall thathad divided the Jew from theGentile was taken down, 
and all distinction between them lost, under the common name of Chris- 
tians. And this may suffice to shew, in opposition to our inquirer, that it 
was both very well and very wisely done to abrogate a law, when the pur- 
pose for which the law had been enacted was accomplished. 

t "According to the bishop's doctrine," then, says the inquirer, "it 
should be not only good policy, but wholesome discipline, to force men 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 



249 



with less probability of their amendment. Indeed in most 
ages of the church, the care of reasonable men has been, 
as there has been for the most part occasion, to draw the 
people off from laying too great weight upon external things ; 
upon formal acts of piety. But the state of matters is quite 
changed now with us. These things are neglected to a de- 
gree, which is, and cannot but be attended with a decay of 
all that is good. It is highly seasonable now to instruct the 
people in the importance of external religion.* 

And doubtless under this head must come into considera- 
tion a proper regard to the structures which are consecrated 
to the service of God. In the present turn of the age, one 
may observe a wonderful frugality in every thing which has 
respect to religion, and extravagance in every thing else. 
But amidst the appearances of opulence and improvement 
in all common things, which are now seen in most places, it 
would be hard to find a reason why these monuments of 
ancient piety should not be preserved in their original beauty 
and magnificence. But in the least opulent places they must 
be preserved in becoming repair ; and every thing relating 

in England to come to church, and in France to go to mass." And again, 
u If externals have this virtue to enforce religious reflections, it must be right 
to compel those who are indisposed to such reflections, to attend these me- 
morials." Yes ; granting that the sense of the passage in the Charge is 
not shamefully perverted, and that we are to understand the bishop here 
to speak of external force and compulsion. Whereas, by " religious reflec- 
tions forced,'" is plainly meant no more than religious reflections oftener 
thrown in men's way, brought more frequently into their thoughts, so as to 
produce an habitual recollection that they are always in the divine pre- 
sence. 

* " The importance of external religion," the inquirer remarks, " is the 
grand engine of the papists, which they play with the greatest effect upon 
our common people, who are always soonest taken and ensnared by form 
and show; and, so far as we concur with them in the principle, we are 
doing their work; since, if externals, as such, are important, the plain 
natural consequence is, the more of them the better." He had the same 
reflection once before : " If true religion cannot be preserved among men 
without forms, the consequence must be, that the Romish religion, having 

more frequent occurrences of forms, is better than other religions, 

which have fewer of these occurrences." To this argument I reply, 

Nego consequentiam. There may be too much of form in religion, as well 
as too little : the one leads to enthusiasm, the other degenerates into super- 
stition ; one is puritanism, the other popery ; whereas the rational worship 
of God is equally removed from either extreme. Did the inquirer never 
hear of the possibility of having too much of a good thing? Or does he 
suppose, with the late historian of Great Britain, that all religion is divided 
into two species, the superstitious and the fanatical ; and that whatever 
is not one of these, must of necessity be the other ? 



250 



Charge to the 



to the divine service be, however, decent and clean ; other- 
wise we shall vilify the face of religion whilst we keep it 
up. All this is indeed principally the duty of others. Yours 
is to press strongly upon them what is their duty in this 
respect, and admonish them of it often, if they are neg- 
ligent. 

But then you must be sure to take care and not neglect 
that part of the sacred fabric which belongs to you to main- 
tain in repair and decency. Such neglect would be great 
impiety in you, and of most pernicious example to others. 
Nor could you, with any success, or any propriety, urge 
upon them their duty in a regard in which you yourselves 
should be openly neglectful of it. 

Bishop Fleetwood has observed,* that unless the good 
public spirit of building, repairing, and adorning churches 
prevails a great deal more among us, and be more encouraged, 
a hundred years will bring to the ground a huge number of 
our churches. This excellent prelate made this observation 
forty years ago : and no one, I believe, will imagine, that 
the good spirit he has recommended prevails more at present 
than it did then. 

But if these appendages of the divine service are to be 
regarded, doubtless the divine service itself is more to be 
regarded ; and the conscientious attendance upon it ought 
often to be inculcated upon the people, as a plain precept of 
the gospel, as the means of grace, and what has peculiar 
promises annexed to it. But external acts of piety and de- 
votion, and the frequent returns of them, are, moreover, 
necessary to keep up a sense of religion, which the affairs of 
the world will otherwise wear out of men's hearts. And the 
frequent returns, whether of public devotions, or of any thing 
else, to introduce religion into men's serious thoughts, will 
have an influence upon them, in proportion as they are sus- 
ceptible of religion, and not given over to a reprobate mind. 
For this reason, besides others, the service of the church 
ought to be celebrated as often as you can have a congrega- 
tion to attend it. 

But since the body of the people, especially in country 
places, cannot be brought to attend it oftener than one day 
in a week ; and since this is in no sort enough to keep up in 
them a due sense of religion ; it were greatly to be wished 
they could be persuaded to any thing which might, in some 
* Charge to the Clergy of St. Asaph, 1710. 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 



251 



measure, supply the want of more frequent public devotions, 
or serve the like purposes. Family prayers, regularly kept 
up in every house, would have a great and good effect. 

Secret prayer, as expressly as it is commanded by our 
Saviour, and as evidently as it is implied in the notion of 
piety, will yet, I fear, be grievously forgotten by the gene- 
rality, till they can be brought to fix for themselves certain 
times of the day for it ; since this is not done to their hands, 
as it was in the Jewish church by custom or authority. In- 
deed custom, as well as the manifest propriety of the thing, 
and examples of good men in Scripture, justify us in insisting, 
that none omit their prayers morning or evening, who have 
not thrown off all regards to piety. But secret prayer com- 
prehends not only devotions before men begin and after they 
have ended the business of the day, but such also as may be 
performed while they are employed in it, or even in com- 
pany. And truly, if, besides our more set devotions, morn- 
ing and evening, all of us would fix upon certain times of 
the day, so that the return of the hour should remind us, to 
say short prayers, or exercise our thoughts in a way equi- 
valent to this ; perhaps there are few persons in so high 
and habitual a state of piety, as not to find the benefit of it. 
If it took up no more than a minute or two, or even less 
time than that, it would serve the end I am proposing ; it 
would be a recollection, that we are in the Divine presence, 
and contribute to our being in the fear of the Lord all the 
day long. 

A duty of the like kind, and serving to the same purpose, 
is the particular acknowledgment of God when we are par- 
taking of his bounty at our meals. The neglect of this is 
said to have been scandalous to a proverb in the heathen 
world ;* but it is without shame laid aside at the tables of 
the highest and the lowest rank among us. 

And as parents should be admonished, and it should be 
pressed upon their consciences, to teach their children their 
prayers and catechism, it being what they are obliged to 
upon all accounts ; so it is proper to be mentioned here, as 
a means by which they will bring the principles of Christi- 
anity often to their own minds, instead of laying aside all 
thoughts of it from week's-end to week's-end. 

* Cudworth on the Lord's Supper, p. 8. Casaub. in Athenseum, 1. i. 
c. xi. p. 22. Duport. Prsel. in Theophrastum, ed. Needham, c. ix. 
p. 335, &c. 



252 



Charge to the 



General exhortations to piety, abstracted from the parti- 
cular circumstances of it, are of great use to such as are 
already got into a religious course of life; but, such as are 
not, though they be touched with them, yet when they go 
away from church, they scarce know where to begin, or how 
to set about what they are exhorted to. And it is with 
respect to religion, as in the common affairs of life, in which 
many things of great consequence intended, are yet never 
done at all, because they may be done at any time, and in 
any manner ; which would not be, were some determinate 
time and manner voluntarily fixed upon for the doing of 
them. Particular rules and directions then concerning the 
times and circumstances of performing acknowledged duties, 
bring religion nearer to practice ; and such as are really 
proper, and cannot well be mistaken, and are easily observed. 
— Such particular rules in religion, prudently recommended, 
would have an influence upon the people. 

All this indeed may be called form ; as every thing ex- 
ternal in religion may be merely so. And therefore whilst 
we endeavour, in these and other like instances, to keep up 
the form of godliness* amongst those who are our care, and 
over whom we have any influence, we must endeavour also 
that this form be made more and more subservient to promote 
the power of it.* Admonish them to take heed that they 
mean what they say in their prayers, that their thoughts and 
intentions go along with their words, that they really in their 
hearts exert and exercise before God the affections they 
express with their mouth. Teach them, not that external 
religion is nothing, for this is not true in any sense ; it being 
scarce possible, but that it will lay some sort of restraint upon 
a man's morals ; and it is moreover of good effect with respect 
to the world about him. But teach them that regard to one 
duty will in no sort atone for the neglect of any other. 
Endeavour to raise in their hearts such a sense of God as 
shall be an habitual, ready principle of reverence, love, gra- 
titude, hope, trust, resignation, and obedience. Exhort them 
to make use of every circumstance, which brings the subject 
of religion at all before them ; to turn their hearts habitually 
to him; to recollect seriously the thoughts of his presence 
in whom they live and move and have their being, and by a 
short act of their mind devote themselves to his service. — 
If, for instance, persons would accustom themselves to be 

* 2 Tim. iii. 5. 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 253 

thus admonished by the very sight of a church, could it be 
called superstition? Enforce upon them the necessity of 
making religion their principal concern, as what is the ex- 
press condition of the gospel covenant, and what the very 
nature of the thing requires. Explain to them the terms of 
that covenant of mercy, founded in the incarnation, sacrifice, 
and intercession of Christ, together with the promised assist- 
ance of the Holy Ghost, not to supersede our own endea- 
vours, but to render them effectual. The greater festivals of 
the church, being instituted for commemorating the several 
parts of the gospel history, of course lead you to explain 
these its several doctrines, and shew the Christian practice 
which arises out of them. And the more occasional solem- 
nities of religion, as well as these festivals, will often afford 
you the fairest opportunities of enforcing all these things in 
familiar conversation. Indeed all affectation of talking 
piously is quite nauseous : and though there be nothing of 
this, yet men will easily be disgusted at the too great fre- 
quency or length of these occasional admonitions. But a 
word of God and religion dropped sometimes in conversa- 
tion, gently, and without any thing severe or forbidding in the 
manner of it, this is not unacceptable. It leaves an impres- 
sion, is repeated again by the hearers, and often remembered 
by plain well-disposed persons longer than one would think. 
Particular circumstances too, which render men more apt to 
receive instruction, should be laid hold of to talk seriously 
to their consciences. For instance, after a man's recovery 
from a dangerous sickness, how proper is it to advise him to 
recollect and ever bear in mind, what were his hopes or 
fears, his wishes and resolutions, when under the apprehen- 
sion of death ; in order to bring him to repentance, or con- 
firm him in a course of piety, according as his life and cha- 
racter has been. So likewise the terrible accidents which 
often happen from riot and debauchery, and indeed almost 
every vice, are occasions providentially thrown in your way, 
to discourse against these vices in common conversation, as 
well as from the pulpit, upon any such accidents happening 
in your parish, or in a neighbouring one. Occasions and 
circumstances of a like kind to some or other of these occur 
often, and ought, if I may so speak, to be catched at, as 
opportunities of conveying instruction, both public and pri- 
vate, with great force and advantage. 

Public instruction is absolutely necessary, and can in no 



254 



Charge to the 



sort be dispensed with. But as it is common to all who are 
present, many persons strangely neglect to appropriate what 
they hear to themselves, to their own heart and life. Now 
the only remedy for this in our power is a particular personal 
application. And a personal application makes a very dif- 
ferent impression from a common, general one. It were there- 
fore greatly to be wished, that every man should have the 
principles of Christianity, and his own particular duty en- 
forced upon his conscience, in a manner suited to his capa- 
city, in private. And besides the occasional opportunities 
of doing this, some of which have been intimated, there are 
stated opportunities of doing it. Such, for instance, is con- 
firmation : and the usual age for confirmation is that time of 
life, from which youth must become more and more their 
own masters, when they are often leaving their father's house, 
going out into the wide world and all its numerous tempta- 
tions; against which they particularly want to be fortified, 
by having strong and lively impressions of religion made 
upon their minds. Now the 61st canon expressly requires, 
that every minister that hath care of souls shall use his best 
endeavour to prepare and make able as many as he canto be 
confirmed ; which cannot be done as it ought without such 
personal application to each candidate in particular as I am 
recommending. Another opportunity^ for doing this is, when 
any one of your parishioners signifies his name, as intending 
for the first time to be partaker of the communion. The ru- 
bric requires, that all persons, whenever they intend to re- 
ceive, shall signify their names beforehand to the minister ; 
which, if it be not insisted upon in all cases, ought absolutely 
to be insisted upon for the first time. Now this even lays 
it in your way to discourse with them in private upon the 
nature and benefits of this sacrament, and enforce upon them 
the importance and necessity of religion. However I do not 
mean to put this upon the same foot with catechising youth, 
and preparing them for confirmation ; these being indispen- 
sable obligations, and expressly commanded by our canons. 
This private intercourse with your parishioners preparatory 
to their first communion, let it, if you please, be considered 
as a voluntary service to religion on your part, and a volun- 
tary instance of docility on theirs. I will only add as to 
this practice, that it is regularly kept up by some persons, 
and particularly by one, whose exemplary behaviour in every 
part of the pastoral office is enforced upon you by his sta- 



Clergy of Durham, 1751. 



255 



tion of authority and influence in (this part* especially of) the 
diocess. 

I am very sensible, my brethren, that some of these things 
in places where they are greatly wanted are impracticable, 
from the largeness of parishes, suppose. And where there 
is no impediment of this sort, yet the ^performance of them 
will depend upon others, as well as upon you. People can- 
not be admonished or instructed in private, unless they will 
permit it. And little w T ill you be able to do in forming the 
minds of children to a sense of religion, if their parents will 
not assist you in it ; and yet much less, if they will frustrate 
your endeavours, by their bad example, and giving encourage- 
ment to their children to be dissolute. The like is to be said 
also of your influence in reforming the common people in 
general, in proportion as their superiors act in like manner 
to such parents ; and whilst they, the lower people I mean, 
must have such numerous temptations to drunkenness and 
riot every where placed in their way. And it is cruel usage 
we often meet with, in being censured for not doing what 
we cannot do, without, what he cannot have, the concurrence 
of our censurers. Doubtless very much reproach which now 
lights upon the clergy would be found to fall elsewhere, if 
due allowances were made for things of this kind. But then 
we, my brethren, must take care and not make more than due 
allowances for them. If others deal uncharitably with us, 
we must deal impartially with ourselves, as in a matter of 
conscience, in determining what good is in our power to do: 
and not let indolence keep us from setting about what really 
is in our power ; nor any heat of temper create obstacles in 
the prosecution of it, or render insuperable such as we find, 
when perhaps gentleness and patience would prevent or over- 
come them. 

Indeed all this diligence to which I have been exhorting 
you and myself, for God forbid I should not consider myself as 
included in all the general admonitions you receive from me; 
all this diligence in these things does indeed suppose, that 
we give ourselves wholly to them. It supposes, not only that 
we have a real sense of religion upon our own minds, but 
also, that to promote the practice of it in others is habitually 
uppermost in our thought and intention, as the business of 
our lives. And this, my brethren, is the business of our 
lives, in every sense, and upon every account. It is the 
* The archdeaconry of Northumberland. 



256 Charge to the Clergy of Durham, 1751. 

general business of all Christians as they have opportunity: 
it is our particular business. It is so, as we have devoted 
ourselves to it by the most solemn engagements ; as, accord- 
ing to our Lord's appointment we live of the gospel;* and as 
the preservation and advancement of religion, in such and 
such districts, are, in some respects, our appropriated trust. 

By being faithful in the discharge of this our trust, by thus 
taking heed to the ministry we have received in the Lord that 
we fulfil it,\ we shall do our part towards reviving a prac- 
tical sense of religion amongst the people committed to our 
care. And this will be the securest barrier against the efforts 
of infidelity ; a great source of which plainly is, the endea- 
vour to get rid of religious restraints. But whatever be our 
success with regard to others, we shall have the approbation 
of our consciences, and may rest assured, that, as to ourselves 
at least, our labour is not in vain in the Lord.\ 

* 1 Cor.ix. 14. f Col. iv. 17. % 1 Cor. xv. 58. 



CORRESPONDENCE 

BETWEEN 

DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 



THE FIRST LETTER. 

Reverend Sir, 

* I suppose you will wonder at the present trouble from one 
who is a perfect stranger to you, though you are not so to 
him ; but I hope the occasion will excuse my boldness. I 
have made it, sir, my business, ever since I thought myself 
capable of such sort of reasoning, to prove to myself the 
being and attributes of God. And being sensible that it is 
a matter of the last consequence, I endeavoured after a de~ 
monstrative proof; not only more fully to satisfy my own 
mind, but also in order to defend the great truths of natural 
religion, and those of the Christian revelation which follow 
from them, against all opposers : but must own with concern, 
that hitherto I have been unsuccessful ; and though I have 
got very probable arguments, yet I can go but a very little 
way with demonstration in the proof of those things. When 
first your book on those subjects (which by all, whom I have 
discoursed with, is so justly esteemed) was recommended to 
me, I was in great hopes of having all my inquiries an- 
swered. But since in some places, either through my not 
understanding your meaning, or what else I know not, even 
that has failed me, I almost despair of ever arriving to such 
a satisfaction as I aim at, unless by the method I now use. 
You cannot but know, sir, that of two different expressions 
of the same thing, though equally clear to some persons, yet 
to others one of them is sometimes very obscure, though the 
other be perfectly intelligible. Perhaps this may be my case 
here ; and could I see those of your arguments, of which I 
doubt, differently proposed, possibly I might yield a ready 
assent to them. This, sir, I cannot but think a sufficient 
excuse for the present trouble ; it being such a one as I 
hope may prevail for an answer, with one who seems to aim 
at nothing more than that good work of instructing others. 
In your Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of 

BUTLER. R 



258 



Correspondence between 



God, Prop. VI.* [edit. 2d. p. 69, 70.] you propose to prove 
the infinity or omnipresence of the self-existent Being. The 
former part of the proof seems highly probable ; but the 
latter part, which seems to aim at demonstration, is not to me 
convincing*. The latter part of the paragraph is, if I mis- 
take not, an entire argument of itself, which runs thus: " To 
suppose a finite being to be self-existent, is to say that it is a 
contradiction for that being not to exist, the absence of which 
may yet be conceived without a contradiction ; which is the 
greatest absurdity in the world." The sense of these words 
[" the absence of which"] seems plainly to be determined by 
the following sentence, to mean its absence from any parti- 
cular place. Which sentence is to prove it to be an absur- 
dity; and is this : " For if a being can, without a contradic- 
tion, be absent from one place, it may, without a contradic- 
tion, be absent from another place, and from all places." Now 
supposing this to be a consequence, all that it proves is, that 
if a being can, without a contradiction, be absent from one 
place at one time, it may, without a contradiction, be absent 
from another place, and so from all places, at different times ; 
(for I cannot see, that if a being can be absent from one 
place at one time, therefore it may, without a contradiction, 
be absent from all places at the same time, i. e. may cease to 
exist.) Now, if it proves no more than this, I cannot see 
that it reduces the supposition to any absurdity. Suppose 
I could demonstrate, that any particular man should live a 
thousand years ; this man might, without a contradiction, be 
absent from one and from all places at different times ; but it 
would not from thence follow, that he might be absent from 
all places at the same time, i. e. that he might cease to exist. 
No ; this would be a contradiction, because I am supposed 
to have demonstrated that he should live a thousand years. 
It would be exactly the same, if, instead of a thousand years, 
I should say, for ever ; and the proof seems the same, whe- 
ther it be applied to a self-existent or a dependent being. 

What else I have to offer is in relation to your proof, that 
the self-existent being must of necessity be but one. Which 
proof is as follows, in Prop. Vll.f [edit. 2d. p. 74.] "To 
suppose two or more different natures existing of themselves, 
necessarily, and independent from each other, implies this 
plain contradiction ; that, each of them being independent 

* P. 45. edit. 4. p. 41 . edit 6. p. 43. edit. 7. p. 44. edit 8. 
f P. 48. edit. 4. p. 44. edit. 6. p. 46. edit. 7. p. 47. edit. 8. 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



259 



from the other, they may either of them be supposed to exist 
alone ; so that it will be no contradiction to imagine the other 
not to exist, and consequently neither of them will be neces- 
sarily existing/' The supposition indeed implies, that since 
each of these beings is independent from the other, they may 
either of them exist alone, i. e. without any relation to, or 
dependence on, the other: but where is the third idea, to 
connect this proposition and the following one, viz. " so that 
it will be no contradiction to imagine the other not to exist ?" 
Were this a consequence of the former proposition, I allow 
it would be demonstration, by the first corollary of Prop. III.* 
[2d edit. p. 26.] but since these two propositions, [" they may 
either of them be supposed to exist alone,"] and, [" so that it 
will be no contradiction to imagine the other not to exist,"] 
are very widely different ; since likewise it is no immediate 
consequence, that because either may be supposed to exist 
independent from the other, therefore the other may be sup- 
posed not to exist at all; how is what was proposed, proved? 
That the propositions are different, I think is plain ; and 
whether there be an immediate connexion, every body that 
reads your book must judge for themselves. I must say, for 
my own part, the absurdity does not appear at first sight, any 
more than the absurdity of saying that the angles below the 
base in an isosceles triangle are unequal ; which though it 
is absolutely false, yet I suppose no one will lay down the 
contrary for an axiom ; because, though it is true, yet there 
is need of a proof to make it appear so. 

Perhaps it may be answered, that I have not rightly ex- 
plained the words, " to exist alone ;" and that they do not 
mean only, to exist independent from the other ; but that 
" existing alone"' means that nothing exists with it. Whether 
this or the other was meant, I cannot determine : but, which 
ever it was, what I have said will hold. For if this last be 
the sense of those words, [" they either of them may be sup- 
posed to exist alone;"] it indeed implies that it will be no 
contradiction to suppose the other not to exist : but then I 
ask, how come these two propositions to be connected ; that, 
to suppose two different natures existing of themselves ne- 
cessarily and independent from each other, implies that each 
of them may be supposed to exist alone in this sense? Which 
is exactly the same as I said before, only applied to different 
sentences. So that if " existing alone" be understood as I 
* P. 16, 17. edit. 4, 6, 7, and 8. 
R 2 



260 



Correspondence between 



first took it, I allow it is implied in the supposition ; but 
cannot see that the consequence is, that it will be no contra- 
diction to suppose the other not to exist. But if the words, 
" existing alone," are meant in the latter sense, I grant, that 
if either of them be supposed thus to exist alone, it will be 
no contradiction to suppose the other not to exist : but then 
I cannot see, that to suppose two different natures existing, 
of themselves, necessarily and independent from each other, 
implies that either of them may be supposed to exist alone 
in this sense of the words ; but only, that either of them may 
be supposed to exist without having any relation to the other, 
and that there will be no need of the existence of the one in 
order to the existence of the other. But though upon this 
account, were there no other principle of its existence, it 
might cease to exist; yet on the account of the necessity of 
its own nature, which is quite distinct from the other, it is an 
absolute absurdity to suppose it not to exist. 

Thus, sir, I have proposed my doubts, with the reasons of 
them. In which if I have wrested your words to another 
sense than you designed them, or in any respect argued un- 
fairly, I assure you it was without design. So I hope you 
will impute it to mistake. And, if it will not be too great a 
trouble, let me once more beg the favour of a line from you, 
by which you will lay me under a particular obligation to 
be, what, with the rest of the world, I now am, 

Reverend Sir, your most obliged servant, &c. 

Nov. 4, 1713. 

THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST LETTER. 

Sir, 

Did men who publish controversial papers accustom them- 
selves to write with that candour and ingenuity, with which 
you propose your difficulties, I am persuaded almost all dis- 
putes might be very amicably terminated, either by men's 
coming at last to agree in opinion, or at least finding reason 
to suffer each other friendly to differ. 

Your two objections are very ingenious, and urged with 
great strength and acuteness. Yet I am not without hopes 
of being able to give you satisfaction in both of them. To 
your first, therefore, I answer : Whatever may, without a 
contradiction, be absent from any one place, at any one time, 
may also, without a contradiction, be absent from all places 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



261 



at all times. For, whatever is absolutely necessary at all, is 
absolutely necessary in every part of space, and in every 
point of duration. Whatever can at any time be conceived 
possible to be absent from any one part of space, may for the 
same reason [viz. the implying no contradiction in the nature 
of things] be conceived possible to be absent from every other 
part of space at the same time ; either by ceasing to be, or 
by supposing it never to have begun to be. Your instance 
about demonstrating a man to live a thousand years, is what, 
I think, led you into the mistake; and is a good instance to 
lead you out of it again. You may suppose a man shall live 
a thousand years, or God may reveal and promise he shall 
live a thousand years; and upon that supposition, it shall 
not be possible for the man to be absent from all places in 
any part of that time. Very true : but why shall it not be 
r possible ? only because it is contrary to the supposition, or 
to the promise of God ; but not contrary to the absolute na- 
ture of things ; which would be the case, if the man existed 
necessarily, as every part of space does. In supposing you 
could demonstrate, a man should live a thousand years, or one 
year ; you make an impossible and contradictory supposition. 
For though you may know certainly (by revelation suppose) 
that he will live so long ; yet this is only the certainty of a 
thing true in fact, not in itself necessary : and demonstration 
is applicable to nothing but what is necessary in itself, neces- 
sary in all places and at all times equally. 

To your second difficulty, I answer : What exists ne- 
cessarily, not only must so exist alone, as to be indepen- 
dent of any thing else; but (being self-sufficient) may also 
so exist alone, as that every thing else may possibly (or with- 
out any contradiction in the nature of things) be supposed 
not to exist at all : and consequently (since that which 
may possibly be supposed not to exist at all, is not neces- 
sarily existent), no other thing can be necessarily existent. 
Whatever is necessarily existing, there is need of its exist- 
ence in order to the supposal of the existence of any other 
thing; so that nothing can possibly be supposed to exist, 
without presupposing and including antecedently the exist- 
ence of that which is necessary. For instance ; the supposal 
of the existence of any thing whatever includes necessarily a 
presupposition of the existence of space and time; and if any 
thing could exist without space or time, it would follow that 
space and time were not necessarily existing. Therefore, the 



262 



Correspondence between 



supposing any thing possibly to exist alone, so as not neces- 
sarily to include the presupposal of some other thing, proves 
demonstrably that that other thing is not necessarily exist- 
ing; because, whatever has necessity of existence cannot pos- 
sibly, in any conception whatsoever, be supposed away. There 
cannot possibly be any notion of the existence of any thing, 
there cannot possibly be any notion of existence at all, but 
what shall necessarily preinclude the notion of that which has 
necessary existence. And consequently the two propositions, 
which you judged independent, are really necessarily con- 
nected. These sorts of things are indeed very difficult to 
express, and not easy to be conceived but by very attentive 
minds : but to such as can and will attend, nothing, I think, 
is more demonstrably convictive. 

If any thing still sticks with you in this or any other 
part of my books, I shall be very willing to be informed of 
it ; who am, Sir, Your assured friend and servant, 

S. C. 

Nod. 10, 1713. 

P. S. Many readers, I observe, have misunderstood my 
second general proposition ; as if the words [" some one 
unchangeable and independent being,"] meant [one only 
— being ;] whereas the true meaning, and all that the argu- 
ment there requires, is, [some one at least.] That there can 
be but one, is the thing proved afterwards in the seventh pro- 
position. 

THE SECOND LETTER. 

Reverend Sir, 

I have often thought that the chief occasions of men's differ- 
ing so much in their opinions, were, either their not under- 
standing each other ; or else, that, instead of ingenuously 
searching after truth, they have made it their business to 
find out arguments for the proof of what they have ouce as- 
serted. However, it is certain there may be other reasons for 
persons not agreeing in their opinions : and where it is so, 
I cannot but think with you, that they will find reason to suf- 
fer each other to differ friendly ; every man having a way of 
thinking, in some respects, peculiarly his own. 

I am sorry I must tell you, your answers to my objections 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



263 



are not satisfactory. The reasons why I think them not so 
are as follow. 

You say, " Whatever is absolutely necessary at all is ab- 
solutely necessary in every part of space, and in every point 
of duration." Were this evident, it would certainly prove 
what you bring it for ; viz. that " whatever may, without a 
contradiction, be absent from one place at one time, may also 
be absent from all places at all times." But I do not conceive, 
that the idea of ubiquity is contained in the idea of self-exist- 
ence, or directly follows from it ; any [otherwise than as, 
whatever exists must exist somewhere. You add, " Whatever 
can at any time be conceived possible to be absent from any 
one part of space, may for the same reason [viz. the implying 
no contradiction in the nature of things] be conceived possible 
to be absent from every other part of space, at the same time." 
Now I cannot see, that I can make these two suppositions for 
the same reason, or upon the same account. The reason why I 
conceive this being may be absent from one place, is because 
it doth not contradict the former proof [drawn from the nature 
of things], in which I proved only that it must necessarily 
exist. But the other supposition, viz. that I can conceive it 
possible to be absent from every part of space at one and 
the same time, directly contradicts the proof that it must 
exist somewhere ; and so is an express contradiction. Unless 
it be said, that as, when we have proved the three angles of 
a triangle equal to two right ones, that relation of the equality 
of its angles to two right ones will be wherever a triangle 
exists ; so, when we have proved the necessary existence of a 
being, this being must exist every where. But there is a 
great difference between these two things: the one being the 
proof of a certain relation, upon supposition of such a being's 
existence with such particular properties ; and consequently, 
wherever this being and these properties exist, this relation 
must exist too : but from the proof of the necessary existence 
of a being, it is no evident consequence that it exists' every 
where. My using the word demonstration, instead of proof 
which leaves no room for doubt, was through negligence, for 
I never heard of strict demonstration of matter of fact. 

In your answer to my second difficulty, you say, " Whatso- 
ever is necessarily existing, there is need of its existence, in 
order to the supposal of the existence of any other thing." All 
the consequences you draw from this proposition, I see proved 
demonstrably ; and consequently, that the two propositions 



264 



Correspondence between 



I thought independent are closely connected. But how, or 
upon what account, is there need of the existence of what- 
ever is necessarily existing, in order to the existence of any 
other thing? Is it as there is need of space and duration, in 
order to the existence of any thing; or is it needful only as the 
cause of the existence of all other things ? If the former be 
said, as your instance seems to intimate : I answer ; space and 
duration are very abstruse in their natures, and, I think, cannot 
properly be called things, but are considered rather as affections 
whichbelong, and in the order of our thoughts are antecedently 
necessary, to the existence of all things. And I can no more 
conceive how a necessarily existent being can, on the same 
account, or in the same manner as space and duration are, be 
needful in order to the existence of any other being, than I 
can conceive extension attributed to a thought ; that idea no 
more belonging to a thing existing, than extension belongs 
to thought. But if the latter be said, that there is need of 
the existence of whatever is a necessary being, in order to 
the existence of any other thing ; only as this necessary 
being must be the cause of the existence of all other things: 
I think this is plainly begging the question ; for it supposes 
that there is no other being exists, but what is casual, and 
so not necessary. And on what other account, or in what 
other manner than one of these two, there can be need of the 
existence of a necessary being in order to the existence of 
any thing else, I cannot conceive. 

Thus, sir, you see I entirely agree with you in all the 
consequences you have drawn from your suppositions, but 
cannot see the truth of the suppositions themselves. 

I have aimed at nothing in my style, but only to be intel- 
ligible ; being sensible that it is very difficult (as you ob- 
serve) to express one's self on these sorts of subjects, especially 
for one who is altogether unaccustomed to write upon them. 

I have nothing at present more to add, but my sincerest 
thanks for your trouble in answering my letter, and for your 
professed readiness to be acquainted with any other difficulty 
that I may meet with in any of your writings. I am willing 
to interpret this, as somewhat like a promise of an answer to 
what I have now written, if there be any thing in it which 
deserves one. I am, Reverend Sir, 

Your most obliged humble servant. 

Nov, 23, 1713. 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



265 



THE ANSWER TO THE SECOND LETTER. 

Sir, 

It seems to me, that the reason why you do not apprehend 
ubiquity to be necessarily connected with self-existence, is 
because, in the order of your ideas, you first conceive a being 
(a finite being, suppose), and then conceive self-existence to 
be a property of that being ; as the angles are properties of 
a triangle, when a triangle exists : whereas, on the contrary, 
necessity of existence, not being a property consequent upon 
the supposition of the things existing, but antecedently the 
cause or ground of that existence; it is evident this neces- 
sity, being not limited to any antecedent subject, as angles 
are to a triangle ; but being itself original, absolute, and (in 
order of nature) antecedent to all existence ; cannot but be 
every where, for the same reason that it is any where. By 
applying this reasoning to the instance of space, you will 
find, that by consequence it belongs truly to that substance, 
whereof space is a ^property, as duration also is. What you 
say about a necessary being existing somewhere, supposes 
it to be finite ; and being finite, supposes some cause which 
determined that such a certain quantity of that being should 
exist, neither more nor less : and that cause must either be 
a voluntary cause; or else such a necessary cause, the quan- 
tity of whose power must be determined and limited by some 
other cause. But in original absolute necessity, antecedent 
(in order of nature) to the existence of any thing, nothing of 
all this can have place; but the necessity is necessarily every 
where alike. 

Concerning the second difficulty, I answer: That which 
exists necessarily, is needful to the existence of any other 
thing ; not considered now as a cause (for that indeed is 
begging the question), but as a sine quo non ; in the sense as 
space is necessary to every thing, and nothing can possibly 
be conceived to exist, without thereby presupposing space : 
which therefore I apprehend to be a property or mode of the 
self-existent substance ; and that, by being evidently neces- 
sary itself, it proves that the substance, of which it is a pro- 
perty, must also be necessary ; necessary both in itself, and 
needful to the existence of any thing else whatsoever. Ex- 
tension indeed does not belong to thought, because thought 
* Or, mode of existence. 



266 



Correspondence between 



is not a being; but there is need of extension to the exist- 
ence of every being, to a being which has or has not thought, 
or any other quaiity whatsoever. I am, Sir, 

Your real friend and servant. 

London, Nov. 28, 1713. 

THE THIRD LETTER. 

Reverend Sir, 

I do not very well understand your meaning, when you say 
that you think, " in the order of my ideas I first conceive a 
being (finite suppose) to exist, and then conceive self-exist- 
ence to be a property of that being." If you mean that I 
first suppose a finite being to exist I know not why ; affirm- 
ing necessity of existence to be only a consequent of its ex- 
istence ; and that, when I have supposed it finite, I very 
safely conclude it is not infinite ; I am utterly at a loss, upon 
what expressions in my letter this conjecture can be founded. 
But if you mean, that I first of all prove a being to exist from 
eternity, and then, from the reasons of things, prove that such 
a being must be eternally necessary ; I freely own it. Neither 
do I conceive it to be irregular or absurd-; for there is a great 
difference between the order in which things exist, and the 
order in which I prove to myself that they exist. Neither do 
I think my saying a necessary being exists somewhere, sup- 
poses it to be finite ; it only supposes that this being exists 
in space, without determining whether here, or there, or every 
where. 

To my second objection, you say, "That which exists 
necessarily, is needful to the existence of any other thing, as 
a sine qua non ; in the sense space is necessary to every thing : 
which is proved (you say) by this consideration, that space 
is a property of the self-existent substance ; and, being both 
necessary in itself, and needful to the existence of every 
thing else; consequently the substance, of which it is a pro- 
perty, must be so too." Space, I own, is in one sense a pro- 
perty of the self-existent substance ; but, in the same sense, 
it is also a property of all other substances. The only dif- 
ference is in respect to the quantity. And since every part of 
space, as well as the whole, is necessary ; every substance 
consequently must be self-existent, because it hath this self- 
existent property. Which since you will not admit for true ; 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 267 



if it directly follows from your arguments, they cannot be 
conclusive. 

What you say under the first head proves, I think, to a 
very great probability, though not to me with the evidence 
of demonstration : but your arguments under the second I am 
not able to see the force of. 

I am so far from being pleased that I can form objections 
to your arguments, that, besides the satisfaction it would have - 
given me in my own mind, I should have thought it an ho- 
nour to have entered into your reasonings, and seen the force 
of them. I cannot desire to trespass any more upon your 
better employed time ; so shall only add my hearty thanks 
for your trouble on my account, and that I am with the 
greatest respect, Reverend Sir, 

Your most obliged humble servant. 

Dec. 5, 1713. 



THE ANSWER TO THE THIRD LETTER. 



Though, when I turn my thoughts every way, I fully per- 
suade myself there is no defect in the argument itself ; yet in 
my manner of expression I am satisfied there must be some 
want of clearness, when there remains any difficulty to a per- 
son of your abilities and sagacity . I did not mean that your 
saying a necessary being exists somewhere, does necessarily 
suppose it to be finite ; but that the manner of expression is 
apt to excite in the mind an idea of a finite being, at the same 
time that you are thinking of a necessary being, without 
accurately attending to the nature of that necessity by which 
it exists. Necessity absolute, and antecedent (in order of 
nature) to the existence of any subject, has nothing to limit 
it; but, if it operates at all (as it must needs do), it must 
operate (if I may so speak) every where and at all times alike. 
Determination of a particular quantity, or particular time or 
place of existence of any thing, cannot arise but from some- 
what external to the thing itself. For example : why there 
should exist just such a small determinate quantity of matter, 
neither more nor less, interspersed in the immense vacuities 
of space, no reason can be given. Nor can there be any 
thing in nature, which could have determined a thing so in- 
different in itself, as is the measure of that quantity; but 
only the will of an intelligent and free agent. To suppose 



268 



Correspondence between 



matter, or any other substance, necessarily existing in a finite 
determinate quantity ; in an inch-cube, for instance ; or in 
any certain number of cube-inches, and no more ; is ex- 
actly the same absurdity, as supposing it to exist necessarily, 
and yet for a finite duration only : which every one sees 
to be a plain contradiction. The argument is likewise the 
same, in the question about the original of motion. Motion 
cannot be necessarily existing; because, it being evident that 
all determinations of motion are equally possible in them- 
selves, the original determination of the motion of any parti- 
cular body this way rather than the contrary way, could not 
be necessarily in itself, but was either caused by the will of 
an intelligent and free agent, or else was an effect produced 
and determined without any cause at all; which is an express 
contradiction: as I have shewn in my Demonstration of the 
Being and Attributes of God. [Page 14. edit. 4th and 5th; 
page 12. edit. 6th and 7th.] 

To the second head of argument, I answer : Space is a 
property [or mode] of the self- existent substance ; but not of 
any other substances. All other substances are in space, 
and are penetrated by it ; but the self-existent substance is 
not in space, nor penetrated by it, but is itself (if I may so 
speak) the substratum of space, the ground of the existence 
of space and duration itself. Which [space and duration] 
being evidently necessary, and yet themselves not substances, 
but properties or modes, shew evidently that the substance, 
without which these properties could not subsist, is itself much 
more (if that were possible) necessary. And as space and 
duration are needful (i. e. sine qua non) to the existence of 
every thing else; so consequently is the substance, to which 
these properties belong in that peculiar manner which I be- 
fore mentioned. I am, Sir, 

Your affectionate friend and servant. 

Dec. 10, 1713. 

THE FOURTH LETTER. 

Reverend Sir, 

Whatever is the occasion of my not seeing the force of 
your reasonings, I cannot impute it to [what you do] the 
want of clearness in your expression. I am too well ac- 
quainted with myself, to think my not understanding an ar- 
gument, a sufficient reason to conclude that it is either im- 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



269 



properly expressed, or not conclusive ; unless I can clearly 
shew the defect of it. It is with the greatest satisfaction I 
must tell you, that the more I reflect on your first argument, 
the more I am convinced of the truth of it ; and it now seems 
to me altogether unreasonable to suppose absolute necessity 
can have any relation to one part of space more than to an- 
other ; and if so, an absolutely necessary being must exist 
every where. 

I wish I was as well satisfied in respect to the other. You 
say, "All substances, except the self-existent one, are in space, 
and are penetrated by it." All substances doubtless, whether 
body or spirit, exist in space : but when I say that a spirit 
exists in space, where I put upon telling my meaning, I know 
not how I could do it any other way than by saying, such a 
particular quantity of space terminates the capacity of acting 
in finite spirits at one and the same time ; so that they can- 
not act beyond that determined quantity. Not but that I 
think there is somewhat in the manner of existence of spirits 
in respect of space, that more directly answers to the manner 
of the existence of body ; but what that is, or of the manner 
of their existence, I cannot possibly form an idea. And it 
seems (if possible) much more difficult to determine what re- 
lation the self-existent Being hath to space. To say he exists 
in space, after the same manner that other substances do 
(somewhat like which I too rashly asserted in my last), per- 
haps would be placing the Creator too much on a level with 
the creature; or however, it is not plainly and evidently true: 
and to say the self- existent substance is the substratum of 
space, in the common sense of the word, is scarce intelligible, 
or at least is not evident. Now though there may be a hun- 
dred relations distinct from either of these ; yet how we 
should come by ideas of them, I cannot conceive. We may 
indeed have ideas to the words, and not altogether depart 
from the common sense of them, when we say the self-existent 
substance is the substratum of space, or the ground of its ex- 
istence : but I see no reason to think it true, because space 
seems to me to be as absolutely self-existent, as it is possible 
any thing can be: so that, make what other supposition you 
please, yet we cannot help supposing immense space; be- 
cause there must be either an infinity of being, or (if you will 
allow the expression) an infinite vacuity of being. Perhaps 
it may be objected to this, that though space is really neces- 
sary? yet the reason of its being necessary is its being a pro- 



270 



Correspondence between 



perty of the self-existent substance ; and that it being so 
evidently necessary, and its dependence on the self-existent 
substance not so evident, we are ready to conclude it abso- 
lutely self-existent, as well as necessary ; and that this is 
the reason why the idea of space forces itself on our minds, 
antecedent to, and exclusive of (as to the ground of its ex- 
istence) all other things. Now this, though it is really an 
objection, yet is no direct answer to what I have said : be- 
cause it supposes the only thing to be proved, viz. that the 
reason why space is necessary is its being a property of a self- 
existent substance. And supposing it not to be evident, that 
space is absolutely self-existent; yet, while it is doubtful, we 
cannot argue as though the contrary were certain, and we 
were sure that space was only a property of the self-existent 
substance. But now, if space be not absolutely independent, 
I do not see what we can conclude is so : for it is manifestly 
necessary itself, as well as antecedently needful to the ex- 
istence of all other things, not excepting (as I think) even the 
self-existent substance. 

All your consequences, I see, follow demonstrably from 
your supposition ; and, were that evident, I believe it would 
serve to prove several other things as well as what you bring 
it for. Upon which account, I should be extremely pleased 
to see it proved by any one. For, as I design the search 
after truth as the business of my life, I shall not be ashamed 
to learn from any person ; though, at the same time, I cannot 
but be sensible, that instruction from some men is like the 
gift of a prince, it reflects an honour on the person on whom 
it lays an obligation. I am, Reverend Sir, 

Your obliged servant. 

Bee, 16, 1713. 

THE ANSWER TO THE FOURTH LETTER. 

Sir, 

My being out of town most part of the month of January, 
and some other accidental avocations, hindered me from an- 
swering your letter sooner. The sum of the difficulties it 
contains is, I think, this : that " it is difficult to determine 
what relation the self-existent substance has to space :" that 
" to say it is the substratum of space, in the common sense 
of the word, is scarce intelligible, or, at least, is not evident :" 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



271 



that " space seems to be as absolutely self-existent, as it is 
possible any thing* can be :" and that " its being- a property 
of the self-existent substance is supposing the thing that was 
to be proved." This is entering indeed into the very bottom 
of the matter ; and I will endeavour to give you as brief and 
clear an answer as I can. 

That the self-existent substance is the substratum of space, 
or space a property of the self-existent substance, are not 
perhaps very proper expressions ; nor is it easy to find such. 
But what I mean is this : The idea of space (as also of time 
or duration) is an abstract or partial idea ; an idea of a cer- 
tain quality or relation, which we evidently see to be neces- 
sarily existing ; and yet which (not being itself a substance) 
at the same time necessarily presupposes a substance, with- 
out which it could not exist ; which substance consequently 
must be itself (much more, if possible) necessarily existing. 
I know not how to explain this so well as by the following 
similitude. A blind man, when he tries to frame to himself 
the idea of body, his idea is nothing but that of hardness. 
A man that had eyes, but no power of motion, or sense of 
feeling at all ; when he tried to frame to himself the idea of 
body, his idea would be nothing' but that of colour. ' Now 
as, in these cases, hardness is not body, and colour is not 
body; but yet, to the understanding of these persons, those 
properties necessarily infer the being of a substance, of which 
substance itself the persons have no idea : so space to us is 
not itself substance, but it necessarily infers the being of a 
substance, which affects none of our present senses ; and, 
being itself necessary, it follows, that the substance, which 
it infers, is (much more) necessary, I am, Sir, 

Your affectionate friend and servant. 

Jan. 29, 1713. 

THE FIFTH LETTER. 

Reverend Sir, 

You have very comprehensively expressed, in six or seven 
lines, all the difficulties of my letter; which I should have 
endeavoured to have made shorter, had I not been afraid an 
improper expression might possibly occasion a mistake of my 
meaning. I am very glad the debate is come into so narrow 
a compass; for I think now it entirely turns upon this, whether 
our ideas of space and duration are partial, so as to presuppose 



272 



Correspondence between 



the existence of some other thing. Your similitude of the 
blind man is very apt, to explain your meaning (which I 
think I fully understand), but does not seem to come entirely 
up to the matter. For what is the reason that the blind man 
concludes there must be somewhat external, to give him that 
idea of hardness? It is because he supposes it impossible for 
him to be thus affected, unless there were some cause of it ; 
which cause, should it be removed, the effect would imme- 
diately cease too ; and he would no more have the idea of 
hardness, but by remembrance. Now to apply this to the 
instance of space and duration : Since a man, from his having 
these ideas, very justly concludes there must be somewhat ex- 
ternal, which is the cause of them ; consequently, should this 
cause (whatever it is) be taken away, his ideas would be so 
too : therefore, if what is supposed to be the cause be removed, 
and yet the idea remains, that supposed cause cannot be the 
real one. Now, granting the self-existent substance to be the 
substratum of these ideas, could we make the supposition of its 
ceasing to be, yet space and duration would still remain unal- 
tered : which seems to shew, that the self-existent substance 
is not the substratum of space and duration. Nor would it 
be an answer to the difficulty, to say that every property of 
the self-existent substance is as necessary as the substance 
itself ; since that will only hold, while the substance itself 
exists; for there is implied, in the idea of a property, an impos- 
sibility of subsisting without its substratum. I grant, the sup- 
position is absurd : but how otherwise can we know 7 whether 
any thing be a property of such a substance, but by examin- 
ing whether it should cease to be, if its supposed substance 
should do so ? Notwithstanding what I have now said, I can- 
not say that I believe your argument not conclusive ; for I 
must own my ignorance, that I am really at a loss about the 
nature of space and duration. But did it plainly appear that 
they were properties of a substance, we should have an easy 
way with the atheists : for it would at once prove demonstrably 
an eternal, necessary, self-existent Being ; that there is but 
one such ; and that he is needful in order to the existence of 
all other things. Which makes me think, that though it may- 
be true, yet it is not obvious to every capacity : otherwise it 
would have been generally used, as a fundamental argument 
to prove the being of God. 

I must add one thing more ; that your argument for the 
omnipresence of God seemed always to me very probable. 



Dr. Butler and Dr. Clarke. 



•273 



But being very desirous to have it appear demonstrably eon- 
elusive, I was sometimes forced to say what was not alto- 
gether my opinion : not that I did this for the sake of dis- 
puting, (for, besides the particular disagreeableness of this to 
my own temper, I should surely have chosen another person 
to have trifled with ;) but I did it to set off the objection to 
advantage, that it might be more fully answered. I heartily 
wish you as fair treatment from your opponents in print, as I 
have had from you ; though, I must own, I cannot see, in 
those that I have read, that unprejudiced search after truth, 
which I would have hoped for. 

I am, Reverend Sir, 

Your most humble servant. 

JH. 3, 1713. 

THE ANSWER TO THE FIFTH LETTER. 

Sir, 

In a multitude of business, I mislaid your last letter; and 
could not answer it, till it came again to my hands by chance. 
We seem to have pushed the matter in question between us 
as far as it will go ; and, upon the whole, I cannot but take 
notice, I have very seldom met with persons so reasonable 
and unprejudiced as yourself, in such debates as these. 

I think all I need say, in answer to the reasoning in your 
letter, is, that your granting the absurdity of the supposition 
you were endeavouring to make, is consequently granting 
the necessary truth of my argument. If # space and duration 
necessarily remain, even after they are supposed to be taken 
away; and be not (as it is plain they are not) themselves 
substances ; that the j" substance, on whose existence they 
depend, will necessarily remain likewise, even after it is sup- 

* Ut partium temporis ordo est immutabilis, sic etiam ordo partium 
spatii. Moveantur hse de locis suis, et movebuntur (ut ita dicam) de 
seipsis. Newton. Princip. Mathemat. schot. ad definit. 8. 

f Deus non est seternitas vel infinitas, sed aeternus et infinitus ; non est 
duratio vel spatium, sed durat et adest. Durat semper, et adest ubique ; 
et existendo semper et ubique, durationem et spatium, seternitatem et 
infinitatem, constituit. Cum unaquseque spatii particula sit semper ; et 
unumquodque durationis indivisibile momentum ubique ; certe rerum 
omnium Fabricator ac Dominus non erit nunquam nusquam. Omniprae- 
sens est, non per virtutem solam, sed etiam per substantiarn : nam virtus 
sine substantia subsistere non potest. In ipso continentur et moventur 
universa, &c. Newton. Princip. Mathemat. Schol. general, sub jinem. 

BUTLER. S 



274 



Correspondence, 8$c. 



posed to be taken away : which shews that supposition to be 
impossible and contradictory. 

As to your observation at the end of your letter ; that the 
argument I have insisted on, if it were obvious to every 
capacity, should have more frequently been used as a funda- 
mental argument for a proof of the being of God : the true 
cause why it has been seldom urged, is, I think, this ; that the 
universal prevalency of Cartes's absurd notions (teaching 
that J matter is necessarily infinite and necessarily eternal, 
and ascribing all things to mere mechanic laws of motion, 
exclusive of final causes, and of all will and intelligence and 
divine Providence from the government of the world) hath 
incredibly blinded the eyes of common reason, and prevented 
men from discerning him in whom they live, and move, and 
have their being. The like has happened in some other 
instances. How universally have men for many ages be- 
lieved, that eternity is no duration at all, and infinity no am- 
plitude ! Something of the like kind has happened in the 
matter of transubstantiation, and, I think, in the scholastic 
notion of the Trinity, &c. I am, Sir, 

Your affectionate friend and servant. 

April 8,1713. 

| Puto implicare contradictionem, ut mundus [meaning the material 
world] sit finitus. Cartes. Epist. 69. Partis primce. 



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